Monument of Stones
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: A dynasty near wiped out. A lost princess returned to her country. Ten years after the overthrow of the Fliaanian royal family, the only survivor of the last dynasty has a choice to make- carve her own path, or follow in her family's footsteps & repeat their mistakes. Can she change history, or will it repeat itself? 2nd in the Fliaanian Royals Quartet.
1. Chapter 1

**Monument of Stones**

 **Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **Summary: A dynasty near wiped out. A lost princess returned to her country. Ten years after the overthrow of the Fliaanian royal family, the only survivor of the last dynasty has a choice to make- carve her own path, or follow in her family's footsteps and repeat their mistakes. Can she change history, or will it repeat itself? 2nd in the Fliaanian Royals Quartet. A/N: Written: 2006. Found: 2017. - Licia**

She wandered the halls of the Winter Palace- it had been over a decade since she had last set foot inside, when her family had been taken from their beds and driven to the governor's mansion and subsequently gunned down.

With her coronation robes now off, and the Great Imperial Crown, scepter and orb returned to their rightful places within the vault, she was free to do as she pleased; and for her, that meant wandering the halls, getting hopelessly lost, as far from the celebration as possible. _All the better_ , she thought, curling her fingers in the heavy fabric of her coronation gown. She sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair away from her face. The diamond poliska she wore was surprisingly lighter than the crown she'd worn earlier during the ceremony.

"Fabala?"

She froze, hearing Glinda call for her, and after a moment, glanced over her shoulder in time to see the blonde make her way into the hall. In a split-second decision, she gathered her skirts and hurried down the rest of the hallway. She could hear Glinda calling for her, but didn't bother stopping.

 _"Fabala!"_

She could vaguely hear Glinda's footsteps on the floor behind her, and if anything, that spurred her on. Though she loved Glinda dearly, she knew that she had to escape; that if Glinda caught her, she'd force her back to the celebration on Partra's orders, when the last thing she wanted to do was attend a ball, even one being thrown in her honor, for having been found, returned to Fliaan, and accepting the throne. While she may have grown up watching the parties her parents and older sisters had attended, and had enjoyed them when she was old enough to attend, now, she could safely say, that she abhorred such functions- if only because she'd spent ten years of her life attending nothing that even resembled a grand celebration like this, and the party or two she'd attended before the coronation, had been the night she and Fiyero had spent at the pub in the City.

 _Yero._

Her heart twisted deeper, her soul screamed louder, and it only made her run faster, her heels clicking frantically on the marble floor. In her head, she could hear his voice from that night at the pub, feel his hand on her back. _"You are so much more than a Kauri, you know that, right? You're mine, princess or orphan."_

 _"I belong to you?"_

 _"You belong to me."_

Tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks as she kept running. Her skirts billowed out behind her, a sea of silver in a marble hallway. The pendant bounced against her throat, a constant reminder of what she'd lost by returning to this world, of the future she'd thrown away for her real family. Of a home and a family she would never have, because she would never see the man she loved again. Most likely, her secret marriage would be annulled and she would be forced to marry someone else- a king of a neighboring country or even a noble of her court. Though from what she could gather, there weren't many monarchies left in Oz now- save the Vinkus and Ev; the rest had fallen to either republics or democracies, dictators or presidents some time before the Fliaanian revolution; if ever.

Quox, she knew, was still a monarchy, as was the Vinkus, and Ev. But the other countries...

 _Have all moved on, while we are still stuck in the past, unable to move forward into the future, despite the revolution; we are desperate to hold onto something long gone._

She choked on a sob, another sharp pain wrapping around her heart and soul and proceeding to shred them both.

 _If I belong to you, why did you leave me, Yero? Why did you run without looking back? Why did you let my grandmother and Glinda step between us? Didn't you know that I wanted to come with you? I wanted none of this, regardless of you being by my side in this world or not; I only wanted to be with you, but you fled without a second thought to me. How could you?_

A sob escaped her throat, and she looked up, feeling the tears rush down her cheeks. She passed several doors that led to other rooms, her parents' studies, the playroom that had once been hers and her siblings', the private suite of her parents'; the study room where she and her siblings had so many lessons. Finally, she came to a door, pushing it open and slipping inside. Her feet led her from the room, through the small adjoining hallway, and into another room.

This room too, was ransacked, clothing and objects strewn everywhere. The cots were overturned, and pictures and religious icons torn from the walls. As she stopped to catch her breath, she let herself look around; the room was familiar, so very, very familiar. Like so many rooms in this week of the palace, this one too was abandoned, having been ransacked after the revolution and massacre of the family, anything of monetary value taken by looters and sold at market- for anything that had once belonged to the former royal family of Fliaan had a value as good as blood money, Glinda had told her. Many looters and thieves had sold her family's things just so they could say that they once had in their possession something of the Thropp family's- it was more a bargaining chip than anything, and it turned her stomach.

Struggling to take a deep breath despite the pain in her chest, she looked around, realizing why the room looked so familiar.

"This was my room."

* * *

Glinda watched as the skirt of the gown Elphaba wore rippled down the hallway, like a silver butterfly's wing, it fluttered with each step. Time seemed to stand still, as she watched her cousin seem to slowly disappear down the hallway of the palace, into what were once the rooms of the Imperial family; the rooms she shared with her sisters and brother, the rooms her parents occupied at one time, now ransacked and abandoned, forbidden entrance to.

In the far distance, she heard a door click shut, and knew that it was no use going after her. Unlike her escape during the massacre, this disappearance was deliberate. She wanted to hide.

And Glinda was smart enough to know that she had to let her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

The mirror on the vanity was cracked; the toiletries she and Nessa had once used were scattered about the floor, gathering layers of dust.

Slowly, she made her way through the room, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Her gaze moved to the cot that had once stood with the head against the wall directly in front of her. It had been hers; Nessa's had been against the adjacent wall.

Dolls and books and other things she and her sister had loved so lay scattered about; some of the dolls faces had cracked, or they'd broken entirely; their fine porcelain skin reminiscent of what had happened to her family. Slowly, carefully, she knelt down, picked up the only doll that had managed to survive without destruction.

Her long black hair was in curls, and she wore a beautiful green dress and matching hat with black shoes. She gently ran a finger over the doll's face.

 _In a collection of thousands, why did you survive when so many others didn't? Can you tell me, little doll?_

She looked up; the dollhouse that the King of Quox had given her and her sisters still sat waiting for someone to play with it; the furniture inside was still as usable as it'd been the day they'd received it. A moment passed, before she turned her gaze back to the doll in her hands.

 _Of everything I can see in here, you and the dollhouse survived. Why, though? What made you both so special?_

She sniffled, swallowing against the pain in her chest.

 _"When is Uncle Irji going to realize that we are too old for dolls? Or dollhouses?"_

 _"I like the dolls he brings us when he visits."_

 _"That's because you are still young enough to want to play with dolls, Nessa. I don't."_

Her gaze moved up from the doll's face, and she turned. Suddenly, it was as though she were back in the bedroom she shared with Nessa, before the revolution. Things that had been scattered were now in their proper place; clothing stolen was returned; the beds righted, the vanity mirror fixed. And her little sister, was sitting on her bed, swinging her legs back and forth; she looked to be no older than eight.

" _Nessa_." She moved closer, tears gathering in her eyes. Her last memory of her little sister was in that basement, hearing her screams as the guard did all he could to assault her and steal her innocence before killing her. But here, in their bedroom, the girl was happy, healthy, and most certainly alive. The child looked up as she approached, she quickly wrinkled her nose.

 _"Fabala?"_ She kept quiet, struggling to keep from crying. _"When did you get so old?"_

 _"I'm not old. I'm only ten. Sophelia is fourteen- she's old."_

Her gaze moved from the younger girl towards the vanity, her breath catching in her throat. _It can't be._ But it was- herself, sitting at the vanity, running a brush through her hair. The girl turned from the mirror, having caught a glimpse of her in the surface.

"Who are you? You aren't allowed to be in here, these are our rooms."

She didn't say anything; she couldn't. She couldn't wrap her mind around what she was seeing or hearing. The ten-year-old got up off the stool, hurrying for the door.

 _"You had better go away, or I'm going to tell Mama and Papa!"_

 _"Fabala, no!" Nessa cried, as the older girl turned back to them._

 _"Nessa? Fabala? What's going on-"_

Elphaba felt her heart twist again, but this time, it was a twisting of a different kind, as her older sisters- twelve and fourteen- entered the room from the adjoining hallway that connected theirs to the younger girls. All four girls wore eyelet lace dresses, each in a different color- Sophelia's was light pink, Oziandra's light purple, Nessa's light blue and Elphaba's light green. They all had their hair pulled back and held with bows, and wore white stockings with light satin slippers. Tears began to well in her eyes, and she reached up, clutching at the pendant.

 _"Elia... Raina..."_ She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. That night in the basement, she was certain she had seen her sisters alive for the last time, until she could join them, but fate had other plans. And now, here they were, alive and healthy- as alive as she was. The tears she tried so desperately to keep from falling began to slip down her cheeks; this wasn't right. Why had she survived when they hadn't? What made the Unnamed God choose them and not her? How was that fair?

 _"Who are you?"_ She looked up find herself staring into Sophelia's eyes. But she couldn't speak, couldn't say a word, and instead, reached out to wrap her arms around her sister, but at the last minute, pulled back.

 _"I've never seen her before." Oziandra joined them, and Nessa spoke up from her place on the bed._

 _"It's Fabala, Elia! I swear! She's just gotten old!" Her two oldest sisters turned to stare at the eight-year-old, before their gazes moved to the ten-year-old standing not far from them._

 _"You mean grown up, Nessa?" Sophelia replied, and the girl shrugged_. After a moment, the oldest daughter circled her sister, drinking her in. _"She certainly does look like Fabala. But there's no way it's possible, Fabala's right there." She turned back to her little sister._

Elphaba wrapped her arms around herself, shaking. _"Oh... Elia... Raina... I miss you so..."_ She choked on a sob. Her heart twisted; between losing Fiyero and being here, she couldn't take it, and her knees gave out. She collapsed, the doll still clutched tight in her grasp.

 _"Elia, is she okay? What's wrong with her?" Sophelia shook her head, kneeling down._

 _"I don't know, Nessa. I- Are you okay?"_ Slowly, Elphaba raised her head, meeting her older sister's gaze. _"Who are you?"_

"I... I survived. I survived the massacre at the governor's mansion... I survived and you didn't... _none of you... not the servants, not Mama and Papa... only me..._ "

 _Sophelia turned to the younger girls. "Fabala, go get Mama and Papa. Hurry!" Without a word, the younger girl left, rushing down the hallway. Minutes passed by, before footsteps could be heard and the door opened; the girl returned._

 _"What is so urgent, Sophelia-"_

Slowly, Elphaba turned at the voice. _"Papa."_ A moment passed, before Frexpar smiled softly at her.

 _"Hello, Fabala." Tears glistened in his eyes. "My, how you've grown, my darling." Melena joined him, slipping her arm through his. Shell, at six, poked his head around their mother to stare at her._

She sniffled, slowly climbing to her feet. "I'm sorry... _I'm so sorry_ you didn't-"

 _"Shh. Hush, Fabala. We know." Melena whispered, giving her daughter a small smile. "We're just glad you did."_

She took a deep breath, reaching out for her mother, knowing that she wouldn't be able to touch her. She shook her head. "I don't want the crown. I don't want to be the _Samrãjñī,_ I don't belong in this world anymore, Mama. I wanted my family back, but not this world. I want my husband... _I'm sorry, Mama_ -"

 _"We know, Fabala, trust me, we know. We've been watching you. You've brown into a beautiful young woman. We couldn't be prouder of you. Tell Fiyero thank you, for us."_

Elphaba shook her head. "He's back in Munchkinland. He left me after-"

 _"We know, darling." Frexpar said, sadness in his eyes. "Fabala, you do understand that all your mother and ever wanted for you was to be happy- yes, the marriage would have been political, but as long as you were happy, that was all we truly cared about. We chose Fiyero because we knew he could make you happy. That is all we ever cared about, for all four of you."_

She sniffled, meeting her father's gaze. "I want him him back... _Papa, it hurts so much_..."

 _Melena swallowed, grasping her husband's arm. "No..." Tears came to the empress's eyes as she watched her only surviving child. The girls gathered around, curious._

 _"Mama, what's wrong?" Oziandra asked, worried._

 _"Soulmates?"_ Slowly, Elphaba nodded. _"Oh, Fabala... it was our- your Papa's and mine- that ended our dynasty. I had hoped... that what Locasta said wasn't true..."_

"I know I belong with Yero, Mama, but-"

 _"You don't belong here."_ She turned, to see the ten-year-old standing before her. _"You never belonged in this world. You were never part of our family. You're nothing but a pretender, a fraud, trying to get Papa's throne, and you know it."_

She awoke, to find herself having curled up on the floor of her former bedroom, still clutching the doll, any sign of her parents and siblings gone. "Of course they're gone, they're dead." She muttered, slowly climbing to her feet. As she left the room, she turned back, the words her of ten-year-old self still ringing in her ears, so similar to Signor Crope's.

 _Nothing but a pretender._


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: I think she was listening to _Once Upon a December_ when she wrote this chapter. ****Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

She hummed softly, a tender lullaby Melena would sing to help her and Nessa sleep when they were little; the same lullaby Elia would hum at night in the House of Special Purpose, a way to comfort her and her sisters while they awaited their fates. She wrapped her arms around herself, eyes closed, tears drying on her cheeks, unaware of where she was or what was going on.

It had taken only moments for her to flee the dilapidated bedrooms, returning down the hallway, heart in her throat, mind filled the brim with confusion. Her feet led her down a few steps, the lullaby in her head louder than any crescendo an orchestra could reach. Taking a deep breath, she spun around, arms out wide and head back, like she used to do with the children in the orphanage when they would play out in the rain.

Laughter caught her attention, and she opened her eyes.

Her sisters rushed towards her, all three of them, dressed in identical court gowns and glittering poliska. Nessa threw her arms around her neck, her poliska going askew, as Oziandra grabbed her hand, pressing their palms together. Sophelia giggled, clapping her hands in delight, before grabbing her other hand and lacing their fingers. Shell's voice soon reached her ears, and as Nessa pulled away, she turned see her brother limping towards them, holding tight to Melena's hand.

"Fabala, how you've grown!"

"Oh, Shell." Once the boy was close enough, she grabbed her brother in a hug, struggling to keep the tears at bay. Tears came to Melena's eyes as she watched her second youngest daughter, but she remained silent, reveling in the sight of her children all together again.

"Come dance, Fabala! Papa has allowed the officers to dance with us for the night! Isn't it wonderful?" Sophelia cried, excited. She turned to her oldest sister; never had Elia seemed excited about Papa's officers- "Perhaps we will meet the men we will marry tonight!" But before she could respond, her sister grabbed her hand. She turned to follow, eyes widening in shock.

Gone was the court of her coronation; replaced instead with the court of her parents- glittering gowns and suits of an era long since past, the ballroom was as it had been in her childhood, marble floors shining under the lights of the exquisite chandeliers, elegance and poise, grandeur beyond a child's wildest dreams. It was as though the court had burst forth from the elaborate tapestries hanging on the walls, as though the ghosts of men and women long dead had floated down to partake in the ball. They bowed and curtsied as the family passed by, before returning to the waltz.

"Fabala, come! Come dance!" It was Raina who tugged on her hand this time, eyes alight with joy, for the second oldest daughter never passed up an opportunity to dance. She turned back, searching for someone, though she could not remember who.

 _Yourself._

She found no one but her sisters, eagerly waiting for her to join them, so they could be caught up in the arms of handsome officers. Her gaze moved to her parents; Melena rested a hand on Shell's shoulder, holding the boy close. She nodded, a soft smile on her face. _Go on, my darling._

After only a moment's hesitation, she lifted her skirts, hurrying down the steps after her sisters, who quickly caught the eyes of officers who soon swept them off their feet and onto the dance floor; even Nessa, as young as she was, laughed as a young man swept her into the dance. She stopped, looking around, searching for someone and no one, waiting anxiously. Waiting for what, she didn't know. A hand rose to her chest, pressing firmly against her heart, but she felt no pain. Nothing but the steady beating of it, and for a moment, she feared she were made of nothing but tin; cold, heartless, to the pain she knew in the very recesses of her mind that she _must_ be feeling. The pain that was slowly killing her with every passing day.

But she could remember nothing of what or who had caused this pain, nothing of the years spent in an orphanage, far from her home country and the family she loved. She only knew this, this ball, this night, these moments with her sisters out on the dance floor, with her parents and her brother. A young man quickly bowed to her before sweeping her into the waltz; his arms brought comfort, strength as they waltzed about the floor. All feelings of the past faded as she realized she was back where she belonged.

Her sisters' laughter could be heard, and she found herself laughing with them as she quickly switched partners, allowing another young man to cut in and guide her as the music changed. As was custom in the Fliaanian waltz, they again exchanged partners; two, three, four times in total. The feel of hands on her waist and the sound of music in her ears made her giddy with excitement and joy, as she allowed her newest partner to lift her lightly off her feet, as was customary in the dance. Once he returned her to her feet, they turned to change partners once more.

His hand was warm on her waist, his scent familiar. Slowly, she let her gaze travel up, past the royal insignia on his chest, towards his face. Royalty, she knew.

Vinkun royalty.

They waltzed in silence for several minutes, gazes locking. His eyes, his face... _it's like... it's like a memory from a dream._

"I know you. But I can't think where or how." She breathed, feeling her heart begin to quicken beneath her breast. His bright blue eyes never left hers; they sparked in the light. Oh, she could get lost in those eyes, those beautiful oceans of blue.

"I'm from the Vinkus." He replied, spinning her out once, as the dance required. They changed partners, briefly for the complicated choreography, Nessa giggled and nodded to him as he spun her out and returned her to hers.

"I gathered." She responded upon returning to him, meeting his gaze once more. "The insignia on your chest. You are more than just a Vinkun. You are of the royal family." They stepped away from each other, joining another couple in a round before returning. She feared she had forgotten the steps; it always amazed her how complicated a Fliaanian waltz was, and even more that she could always dance one perfectly, no matter the partner. "One of the princes."

He grinned. "You could say that."

They moved until she stood with her back to his chest, her arms crossed in front of her and their hands still joined. The familiar four-step of the waltz took them around another couple before they lifted arms and she spun to face him, hands still linked, this time one above their heads. They stared at each other through the frame their arms created, enamored.

"You... hold an importance to me... but I don't remember what it is."

He chuckled softly, the sound making butterflies erupt in her stomach. Oh, she knew that chuckle, but she could not place where or when she'd last heard it. As they easily unwound and he wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground to spin, his other hand taking hers, he whispered,

"I've always had an importance in your life."

He returned her to her feet, she landed softly, the entire move was with the ease of a practiced ballerina. She turned back to face him, allowing him to take her waist again as they once more moved around the dance floor. They once more joined another couple and then departed, returning to each other.

"How?" She allowed him to spin her out briefly. "I... I would remember you if you held such importance to me."

He shook his head. "No you wouldn't, Kauri. Not if your memory was stolen."

A soft snort escaped her vocal cords, and she was grateful Melena was watching with Shell and so could not hear. "Stolen? What a... preposterous thing to say. I would know if my memory was stolen." She looked up at him, fear briefly clouding her eyes. "Wouldn't I?"

A gentle sigh fled from between his lips, like the softest of breezes, and he reached up, caressing her cheek. Instinctively, she tilted her head, pressing her cheek into his palm, eyes closing for the briefest of moments. When she opened them again, he was watching he with sadness etched within his features. "Not if I stole it away."

"How could you steal my memory? I don't know you. A stranger cannot steal another's memory-"

They returned to the waltz, and he took the brief change in partners to gather his thoughts. She met his gaze, expectant, awaiting his answer with bated breath. A moment passed, before,

"I'm no stranger, Your Highness. I never have been. I never will be."

"Then if you're no stranger, tell me who you are." She replied, studying his eyes. She allowed herself to study him; the insignia on his chest, the blue of his gaze, the darkness of his skin. If he removed his shirt, would there be blue diamonds, patterned on his skin? Would they be as warm as the flesh itself? As soft? A blush crept into her cheeks as such improper thoughts- the thoughts of a married woman.

 _And you are but a girl._

He leaned close; his scent enveloped her, wrapped her in warmth that was so familiar, yet not. Her heart jumped as the warmth of his breath lovingly caressed the shell of her ear, and her eyes closed instinctively as he spoke, each word hitting a part of her soul she long thought dead. "I'm the Crown Prince of the Vinkus." She sighed softly. "I'm your betrothed." Another soft sigh. "My name's Fiyero."

Slowly, as though pushing away a thousand boulders, her eyelids rose, and she pulled away, meeting his gaze. "Fiyero." It was his turn to nod softly. "The Vinkun Crown Prince." Another soft nod. "My betrothed."

They returned to the waltz; he lifted her up before gently returning her to her feet and using a familiar dance move to turn her away from him; they repeated the step they'd done earlier, and he felt her sigh against his hand. His lips brushed her cheek. "I'm your husband."

She sighed visibly, her breathy whisper tugging at his heart. "I almost remember..."

Without another word, he turned her back to face him, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. Her brain, as foggy as it was due to the heady mix of music, dancing and warmth from the chandeliers, knew this was wrong. It was improper, for a man to hold a woman the way he was holding her, even a man she was meant to one day marry. He reached up, holding gently to the back of her neck, as he searched her gaze; but her eyes were cloudy, reflecting nothing but the chandelier light and the beauty of the night, not a hint of recognition.

As the music rose to a crescendo and the dancers continued to waltz, he leaned down and captured her mouth with his. A moment of confusion filled her before she let it slide; his arm tightened around her waist, even through the thick fabric of her court gown, he could feel the heat growing in her belly, could sense her response as he held her to him, one leg sliding between hers, brushing against her through the skirt of her gown. He deepened the kiss, feeling her reach up and wrap an arm around his neck, tangle her fingers in his hair. It was unlike any kiss he'd ever shared with her; she wanted this, longed for it, even though she didn't remember at all what it was or why. But she knew that the desire pulsing through her veins was very, very real; that the craving he made her feel was something she'd experienced before and longed to experience again, that only he could make her long the way she was.

In her mind, he would ravage her, make her feel and experience things only a woman could; he would treat her as Papa treated Mama, touching and caressing as only a husband could to his wife. A soft moan escaped her throat, and she felt him tighten his hold on her, lifting her slightly off the ground. The music continued to play, the couples continued to waltz, and she felt herself falling. Though she was falling without any danger, for she was safe in his arms. She felt that she would be safe for the next hundred years-

Her soft moan sent his heart leaping; oh, how he wished he could take her now, remind her of the woman she was, not the girl she had been. That he could peel this dress from her body, expose her soft skin to the chandelier light, return the marks to her flesh and fill her once more... that he could smell her desire for him, feel her reach for him, taste his name on her lips as she screamed his name in absolute pleasure, here and now, as they had done so many times before...

He berated himself for such selfish, filthy thoughts, even as very familiar figures danced across his memory; gracefully, forever in sync, though they would never be together again. Not in this life, he knew. Perhaps someday, lifetimes from now, far from this enchanted world of elegant palaces and grand parties, they would find their way back to each other. But not in this life; she had made her choice. He must live with that.

Slowly, very slowly, he forced himself to break the kiss and pull away. His eyes met hers, and he saw the desire he'd created, he'd built up in selfishness. His body cried in need to relieve her this desire, to push himself inside her and end both their misery by joining them together, flesh to flesh and heart to heart. But his soul screamed in pain; she was a mere girl, not the woman he had loved and lost of his own selfish lies. He knew that no joining of the flesh now could end the pain that he had inflicted upon both their souls.

A soft cry unintentionally escaped his throat, and he felt tears begin to gather beneath his eyelids. No matter how much he longed to, he knew that as long as she remained within the court of Fliaan, they would never be together. He had turned his back on such enchanted worlds long ago. Like the dancing bears peddlers from distant lands used to bring to entertain him and his brother, he knew that this too would fade; these things tucked deep within her heart were what she used to know, what she no longer required. And so he held her close, so that she was safe and warm within his embrace; he knew that for her, this was so far away, so very long ago, and that like any fire he had once ignited within her, it would soon grow dim as an ember, until eventually, there was nothing left.

Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he told himself that he had to- it was for her own good. But as she looked up at him with a glimmer of confusion in her beautiful gaze, he couldn't help himself. She reached up to brush the tears away, and he grabbed her, holding her small hands between them as he leaned down, nuzzling his nose against hers. _Come back to me._

The music began to slow, the waltz all but coming to a standstill, and gently, firmly, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes closed instinctively, and he felt her breath hitch softly. He savored the softness of her skin against his lips, before he slowly pulled away, tears glistening on his cheeks. Her gaze met his, and he swallowed, his voice catching.

 _"Come back to me, Fae."_

Confusion now completely clouded her gaze, and she reached for him, opening her mouth to speak, but he backed up slowly, shaking his head.

"Fabala?" Her eyes snapped open. Slowly, she turned, to find Glinda standing on the steps of the palace, worry and fear etched within her features. Her eyes quickly darted around; how the hell had she gotten out into the garden without being noticed? How had she gotten out of the palace at all? She was suddenly very aware that she was outside and it was snowing. "Fabala? Are you okay? Talk to me."

Her gaze darted back to Glinda, and in that moment, she knew that she had to make a decision. The apartment wasn't very far from here, she knew... okay, so it was a good car ride or walk from the Winter Palace, but at this point... "Fabala, _please_. You're scaring me." Her gaze locked on the blonde; she seemed to be searching for something. Upon deciding that whatever she was looking for did not reside in the bubbly young countess, she grabbed her skirt. "Fabala, what are you doing?" Glinda shook her head, seeing the sudden intention gleam in her cousin's eye. "Fabala, no, don't. Please don't do this."

She stepped back as Glinda stepped forward, as skittish as a newborn fawn. For every step Glinda took, she mirrored, moving further and further back until she had put a good amount of distance between them. "Fabala, please, come back inside. I know it's been a stressful day, but you can dance and enjoy the party; after all, it's in your honor." She lifted her skirt higher, giving the girl one last chance to try and change her mind. "You're the Fliaanian _empress_ , Fabala, you can't just _stay outside in a snowstorm!_ You'll _freeze to death!_ "

That did it.

Without a word, she gathered as much of her skirt into her grasp as she could, turned, and fled. Illnora and Partra reached the doorway as Glinda's cry cut through the dark of the night. But they were too late. By the time Partra stepped out onto the steps, her granddaughter had been swallowed up by the silver storm.

 _"Fabala!"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

Somehow, some way, even midst the storm, she made it back to the apartment she was residing in.

As the door slammed shut and she leaned against it, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened after she'd left her family's apartments. She pushed herself away from the door, stumbling towards the bedroom. A cry escaped her throat as her heart began to constrict, and she grabbed her chest, stumbling against the nearest piece of furniture.

 _Pain... absolute, unbearable pain..._

She hissed before digging her teeth into her lower lip and forcing herself to get to the bedroom. Once in the doorway, she kicked off her heels before entering. Despite the thickness of the skirt she wore, her knees hit the floor, hard. She cried out in surprise, teeth slicing into her bottom lip. The poliska remained on her head; it glittered in the darkness, attracting the firelight that flickered from the fireplace in her room. One of the maids must have lit it before they left for the night, so that her room would be warm when she returned after the party. _How thoughtful._

Another pain wracked her body, and she reached up, pressing a palm against her chest; hoping, pathetically, that it would stop the pain in her heart. Though she knew this wasn't the pain of heartache; this pain was much deeper.

 _Akin to childbirth, I would suspect. Is this the kind of pain Mama felt when she gave birth to each of us? This... this soul-wrenching agony?_

Slowly, she crawled towards the fireplace. Once before it, she curled up on her side, pillowing her head on her arms; she didn't bother removing the dress nor the poliska; instead, she lay staring into the flames, wishing, praying, for it to end so that she could be with her family. Tears raced down her cheeks as she watched the flames dance.

How had her life become... _this_? How had she gone from Fae the orphan, to Elphaba, newly crowned empress of Fliaan? How had this all started? She suddenly couldn't remember. An image appeared within the flames- her parents, her sisters and brother, herself, posed in one of their famous formal portraits.

Was this life really hers? Was she _really_ the missing _Kauri_? Or simply a pretender, as her younger self had claimed in their apartments tonight? What if she was nothing more than that, an imposter? It was laughable. An imposter princess; a fraud Empress, now ruler to what was once the most glorious empire in all the land. But all the evidence pointed to her being the real thing; the real _Kauri_ , the only surviving member of the Fliaanian royal family- the moles on her back, her memories, her looks, the diamonds by her eyes were certainly a giveaway, and the pendant Fiyero had kept on his person for ten years. Clearly, those indicated she was really, truly of royal blood.

 _But what if you aren't?_ A tiny voice wiggled the thought at the very edge of her brain. _What if you're nothing more than a lowly orphan, impersonating royalty because you're so desperate for a home and a family? And if you are, then you've managed to dupe an entire country, and not just an entire country, but all of Oz. You're the most famous royal pretender in the world._

She shut her eyes, trying to clear her head.

 _And if you're nothing more than an imposter, then no one should care who you share a bed with. If you're really just a pretender, then you can leave, you can go back to Nest Hardings, you can find Yero and repair your marriage, make babies- lots and lots of babies- and build a life together, like you wanted to before he walked out on you. You can run away and start over, start fresh, both of you._

She slid a hand down to caress her abdomen, tears slipping faster down her cheeks.

 _Babies._

Orphan or princess, she wanted a baby. From the time she and Fiyero had agreed to the deal of a marriage, she had silently hoped for a baby. She had loved children when she herself was still a child, and had often looked after Nessa and Shell for Melena. When they had been kept prisoner in the House of Special Purpose, she would often go out and play with the village children who would come around and ask to see them. Her sisters had stayed far away, hidden inside the house, but she... she had always gone out to play, if the guards permitted. She had hoped to one day have children. But now-

 _We could have made a baby. We made love that night, we could have-_

A sob escaped her throat, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. She knew not why she was crying, just that it was for the future she never had, thanks to the revolution, and the future she would never have, thanks to her own soul-crushing decision. Why did she agree? Why hadn't she just run? Gathered up her things and rushed after Fiyero, far away from Fliaan and Patra and Glinda. Why had she stayed?

 _Because he made the decision for you. You had no choice, he didn't give you one._

The tears came faster, and she knew it was right. Fiyero had boxed her in, on purpose, while he ran, coward that he was. The pain got worse; it rippled through every part of her. This pain, it was worse than the childbirth she would never experience. It tore through her very soul.

She reached up, grabbing her head in a feeble attempt to stop the throbbing. The flames in the fireplace began to turn a hideous blood red; the red of the brain matter splashed across the walls of the basement, the red of the blood that would gather and turn Shell's skin a sickly black whenever he got hurt, the red of the stain of the sheets on the night she and Fiyero consummated their marriage, the red of the blood that would pour from her womb every month like clockwork, that indicated she would not bear her husband's child, that had been conspicuously absent for the last several weeks, thanks to stress and the pain of Fiyero's leaving- the very blood that now stained the fabric of her coronation gown. A sob choked her; so she had been late, but not due to pregnancy, as she had silently hoped. No, she knew what this was- her cycles had always been heavy, especially in times of great stress. So heavy in fact, that it was an indicator of what she and her sisters had always feared they'd be.

Carriers.

No matter how she longed for a baby; being a carrier meant it would never be- not without cursing the child to the same fate as her brother. As long as she carried this disease, she would never carry a child.

 _Only those of royal blood bear this disease, and we bear it alone._ She knew her mother was right.

 _Fiyero is better off without you._ She shook her head. _But I love him._ The pain got worse, ripping through her, staining the furthest crevices of her conscious. A scream escaped her throat, one of such pain and heartache that it ripped through the very fiber of being.

* * *

He bolted upright in bed, the pain unbearable. It took a few minutes before he realized what was happening, and after a moment, he reached for his watch to check the time. A little after three in the morning.

Returning the watch to its place on the crate, he curled back into the covers; there was no use getting up, he wouldn't be able to walk anyway due to the pain. Better to stay here and wait for it to pass. He struggled to catch his breath; he knew that no matter what he did, it would only get stronger, cutting deeper into him, torturing him.

 _It's her, you know it is. It's always been her. Your soul is dying and so is hers; you cannot be apart any longer, and yet you insist on being. What the hell is wrong with you? Can't you see it's killing you, killing her? Your stubborn pride is killing you both._ He swallowed thickly, burying his face in the pillow. _It's not pride. She's better off without me._ The pain got sharper. _Yeah, this is better._ _For both of you._

He shook his head, tears sliding down his cheeks as he clutched feebly at someone who wasn't there. "It has to be. I can't... can't give her what she needs... she doesn't belong with me. She never... belonged with me."

* * *

"Fabala?"

Glinda poked her head into the room; she'd spent the rest of the night searching for her cousin, to no avail, until she finally just decided to return to the apartment. As she looked now, there was no sign of her in the cot. She slipped inside, stopping at the sight of her cousin lying in front of the fireplace. Letting out a cry, she rushed towards the young empress, dropping down beside her. She spotted the blood soaking the material of her skirt, and shook her cousin gently. "Fabala? Fabala, talk to me! _Fabala!_ "

Several minutes passed, before the girl slowly turned her head, shifting dead eyes from the fire to the blonde. "Glinda-"

"I'll be right back. I'm going to go call for help, okay? I'll be right back, Fabala. Hang on." She pressed a kiss to the other girl's temple before climbing to her feet and rushing off to call for a doctor. Once the blonde was gone, she turned her gaze back to the dying embers.

 _Please, just let me die._


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"... let her rest... she needs time to heal..."

"But the blood..."

"Her cycle, yes, but-"

"My poor granddaughters always hemorrhaged whenever they got their cycle; it's a mark of that disease."

"Disease? Not the disease that Shell-"

"Elphaba is like her mother, Glinda, a carrier. It is the only thing I wish she never inherited from Melena."

She shifted as someone reached down and began stroking their fingers through her hair.

 _Mama._

"It's okay, Fabala, it'll be okay."

"Keep her down for the next several days. No meetings, no engagements, nothing. She needs to stay down and recuperate."

"I'll let Parliament know. Thank you, doctor."

The door shut softly behind him, and Partra turned to Glinda, who was sitting next to the cot, running her fingers through Elphaba's hair. Fear filled the blonde's eyes, and she was as pale as her ivory cousin. "She'll be okay?"

The dowager nodded. "It was too much; the coronation, the ball, all of it, it was too much. I should be surprised her body reacted this way, but I'm not. Her body has always hemorrhaged under too much stress." She wrapped her arms around her waist, reminding Glinda of her granddaughter. "Such as the night her tonsils were removed, back when she was twelve."

"I... I remember." Glinda whispered, turning back to Elphaba. "We nearly lost her. She... didn't she... hemorrhage on the table?"

Another nod. "Melena was told to begin preparing burial rights; no one was sure she would survive. Was touch and go for several hours, but she pulled through. And," She sighed. "And developed double pneumonia that kept her down for weeks. And then upon pneumonia, measles. But she survived."

"She's survived a lot." Glinda sniffled, continuing her stroking. "But can she survive this?"

Patra knelt beside the cot, studying her granddaughter's face. "The bleeding, yes. She will be up and about in no time, once it stops." Gently, she reached out, stroking the girl's cheek. "But this other-" She and Elphaba locked eyes, and gently, she reached up to brush away an eyelash; the girl's dark eyes flinched close briefly. "without his return,"

"But he won't come back. He won't set foot in the court; he wants none of it, and by extension, none of her. He claims to love her, and yet he's killing her-"

"I know, Glinda, believe me, dear, I know." A sigh escaped the older woman's throat.

"Maybe... maybe we could... introduce someone else? I know it sounds horrible, but... but maybe someone who... who she could grow to love... we could have this marriage annulled and..." The blonde stopped, aware of how ridiculous she sounded.

Partra chuckled sadly, meeting the blonde's gaze. "If only it were as simple as annulling a marriage." She shook her head. "Introduce her to others we may, but... unless he returns..." Her voice clogged with tears, and she thought of her son and daughter-in-law, her other grandchildren, missing, dead for all she knew; slaughtered in the basement of the House of Special Purpose, before they really had a chance to live. "I fear... I fear we may lose her."

* * *

 _She shook with chills, burned with fever. She longed for water; her throat hurt. She reached feebly for the nightstand; a hand took hers. With fuzzy vision, she tilted her head back. Mama._

 _"Shh, don't speak, Fabala. You'll only make the pain worse." Without another word, Melena grabbed the glass on the nightstand, helped her sit up, held it to her lips. She drank greedily; the water did nothing to salve the pain as it slid down the back of her throat. Once the glass was dry, Melena returned it to the nightstand, stroking her daughter's hair. "Easy, Fabala. Easy, there you go." She helped the girl lay back among the pillows._

 _"Mama?"_

 _Slowly, she turned to find her sisters gathered in the doorway, in simple summer dresses, eyes wide with fear and worry. A moment passed, before Melena beckoned them in; Nessa rushed to the cot, throwing herself onto it. She climbed into her older sister's lap, wrapping her arms around her neck and burying her face in her shoulder, sobbing. "We nearly lost you, Fabala. I was so scared."_

 _After a moment, she wrapped her arms around her younger sister, holding the girl close. The ten-year-old continued to sob, and gently, she rubbed her sister's back. Melena watched her two youngest daughters with tears in her eyes, and after a moment, she reached up to cover her mouth. She turned when she felt someone kneel beside her. Oziandra reached out and took her hand, dark eyes filled with tears. "She's... not out of the woods yet, is she, Mama?"_

 _"No, my darling, not yet."_

 _Someone cleared their throat, and all five Thropp women looked up to find Frex standing in the doorway. "Papa-" But Sophelia stopped, when Frex held up a hand and stepped into the sick room. His gaze never left his third oldest daughter, his angelic Elphaba, who had very nearly joined the angels she was so similar too tonight. Her pale face was ashen, making the diamonds by her eyes stand out all the more, and her long black hair sharp against her thin features. She had lost so much blood during the surgery, that they feared they'd lost her; but here she was, sitting up in bed, pale and sickly, but alive._

 _"Fabala?"_

 _"She's weak with pneumonia, Frex, but she's alive. Our Fabala is alive." Melena whispered, squeezing Oziandra's hand. The girl shared a glance with Sophelia over the bed, and both knew what no one dared breathe._

 _Elphaba had hemorrhaged on the operating table._

 _Hemorrhaged._

 _And not like when any of them got their cycles, but really, truly, uncontrollably hemorrhaged._

 _To the point where she had lost so much blood they feared they would lose her as well. But somehow, she'd pulled through; be it prayers or some unknown strength, she'd pulled through. She had contracted double pneumonia, but she'd pulled through the surgery. At that moment, that was what was important. Elphaba's hemorrhage meant something much greater, more frightening though._

 _It meant that at least one of Melena and Frexpar's daughters was a carrier to the disease that plagued their brother. That the daughter who adored children, who longed to one day marry a Fliaanian soldier and have thirty children, would never be able to have her wish, lest she curse her sons with this blood disease and her daughters with carrying it._

 _Slowly, Frex made his way to the bed. Reluctantly, Nessa let go of her sister and climbed off it, allowing their father to wrap his arms around his third daughter. Try as she might, Elphaba could only mouth 'Papa' over and over again, even as she burrowed into his embrace. "Thank the Unnamed God she's alive."_

She slowly opened her eyes; she was alone in the room. Almost robotic, she shifted onto her back, gaze going to the ceiling. She remembered when she'd gone into to have her tonsils out, waking to the pain days later, being surprised to learn she'd contracted double pneumonia not long after surgery, being horrified to learn she'd hemorrhaged on the operating table and that the rest of her family had been told to prepare burial rites for her...

But she'd pulled through. Now, if she could just-

 _Fabala, you need to pull through this. Papa and I don't want to see you waste away like this, my darling. You need to pull through._

Tears trailed down her cheeks, and she buried her face in the pillow. _But what if I don't want to, Mama? What if I don't want to?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"Fabala?"

Slowly, she lifted her eyes, meeting Glinda's gaze before returning to whatever she'd been staring at. The blonde studied her cousin, who sat slumped upon the throne; the very throne her father had once sat upon, her grandfather, great-grandfather, her great-grandmother, great-great grandmother, and all other Fliaanian rulers who had come before her, a hundred years worth of rulers. Though only a week or two had past, it had been the time needed for Elphaba to gather her strength and recoup from whatever had struck her on the night of her coronation. Though she was still too weak to meet with Parliament or any of the other things a ruling empress did, she had enough strength to visit the Winter Palace, and wander off from her keepers. Or, keeper, as was Glinda.

She was still thin, as thin as she'd been after her bout of measles and double pneumonia; her dark eyes were too big for her tiny frame, and she appeared to carry the weight of the world on her small, slender shoulders. She rested her head on her hand, her gaze trained on something residing on the floor beside her. A look of absolute despair was etched upon her delicate features, making her appear twenty years older than her twenty-four years. It was a look reminiscent of one Aunt Melena often wore, when the strain of life and hand her family had been dealt was often too much for the woman. To know that her daughter now wore a similar look upon her beautiful features...

"Fabala, maybe we should go home. You're clearly not up for anything, you're still recovering."

"Home?" She breathed, not taking her eyes from whatever had captured her attention on the floor. "What is home?" Her gaze moved from the spot on the floor, and after a moment, she stood on shaky legs, pulling the skirt of the silk kimono-style dress one of the maids had wrapped around her small body earlier in the day tight around her. It was no coat for a young woman to wear in weather like this, but Elphaba didn't care. She wore the dress and only the dress. Her black hair tumbled down her back in unruly waves, and she carefully stepped off the dais, brushing past Glinda. "I don't have a home." Her whisper tore at her cousin's heart, and Glinda turned, watching as the young royal moved down the length of the room and out of the double doors. After a moment, she followed, confused.

"What are you talking about, Fabala? You are home."

The young empress turned back to her cousin, and Glinda saw that her once lively dark eyes were dead to all except whatever had captured her attention in the throne room. "Home? This is not my home, Glinda. I never had a home. The closest thing I had to a home was the orphanage where Mistress Morrible took care of me for ten years. And even that wouldn't be considered a home. I'm no better than the orphans Mistress Morrible took care of, Glinda." Without another word, she turned to walk away, only to slam into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I-" The young man stopped, suddenly realizing who he'd run into. "Your Majesty."

"Please, that's not necessary," She started, holding out a hand to stop him, but he bowed, and she sighed. "That's... all right."

The man straightened and met her gaze. "I heard you have not been well; I hope you are doing better."

Another sigh escaped her throat, and she swallowed, reaching up to press a hand to her chest that didn't go unnoticed by either the man or Glinda. "I am..." She let herself lock eyes with the man. "I am... doing as well as can be expected, thank you, Mister-"

"Avaric, of the Tenmeadows of Ev, Your Majesty." He took her hand, brushing a soft kiss to her knuckles as Glinda joined her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Fabala, you remember Avaric. He is Cousin Everic and Abatha's son. Remember?"

 _She let out a squeal of surprise as he grabbed her hands and proceeded to run in a circle; they spun around for several minutes, until the polka dot of her skirt had blurred. Suddenly, he let go, and they each went flying in opposite directions. "Elphaba! Are you okay?"_

 _But she laughed as Oziandra helped her to her feet; the grass was cool against her skin. It was rare that they were ever allowed to be barefoot, but the summer on the Evian coast, they were allowed to be children, not the royal Kauris they were at home. Once the world had stopped moving, she rushed to her cousin. "Can we do it again, Cousin Av?"_

A moment passed, before she nodded, turning back to him, plastering a smile on her face. "Of course. I'm sorry, Cousin Av, forgive me."

He shook his head. "It's quite all right, Elphaba. After what you've gone through, I don't blame you for having forgotten."

They stood in silence for several minutes before Glinda spoke up, glancing at Avaric. "If you'll excuse us, Avaric, we'd best be going. Fabala's had a trying couple of weeks-" Elphaba turned to meet her cousin's gaze.

"Would you permit me to walk you out?" The women shared a glance, before slowly Elphaba nodded. He offered an arm to each woman, but Glinda pulled back.

"I'll join you in a moment, I'm just going to let the others know that we will be returning home." And without another word, she turned and hurried back the other way. Reluctantly, Elphaba took Avaric's arm, and they walked in silence for several minutes.

"What are you doing here, Avaric?"

"I'm here on business for my grandmother. And honestly, I was hoping to run into you." She nodded, falling back into silence. "Fabala," They stopped, and she turned to face him. "I wanted to apologize, for my family. For... for what happened after Cousin Frex abdicated and-"

She tore her gaze from the floor, meeting his. "What are you talking about?"

He stopped. "You don't know?"

A brow furrowed, and a pout tugged at her lips. He swallowed; her cheekbones were too sharp for such a delicate body, her eyes too big, her porcelain skin too pale and her small body too swamped by the emerald green kimono-style dress she wore. it was so similar to one she had worn the last time he'd seen her, that for a moment, he had a flashback. He sighed, realizing that he would be the one to relay such apologies and information to her. "Fabala, you know that your father asked for asylum after abdicating."

They continued walking, and Elphaba nodded. "I... I remember Papa saying something about having written Cousin Everic, but-"

He stopped, turning to her. "My father said no, Fabala."

"Said no?"

A nod, and they continued walking. "He was afraid that the people of Ev would turn on him and side with your family if he allowed entry. So Cousin Frex asked for asylum for Cousin Melena, and you and your siblings, but your mother, she refused to leave your father, and so he wrote back to mine and asked for asylum for you and your siblings. He figured, if at least you and your siblings could get out-"

"But?" She turned to him. Tears filled Avaric's gaze, and he met dark eyes.

"Father said no."

"What?"

"He... he was terrified that if he allowed you and your siblings aslyum in Ev that the country would turn in support of you and your family, and that he would be overthrown and one of you would be placed upon the throne, or that the country would try to place Frex upon the throne. He was paranoid about keeping his throne, and saw you and your family as the cause for it. And when he found out what had happened- especially to find out that you and your siblings were subjected to the massacre as well, well, he asked if he'd made the right choice, and was told in response that only the Unnamed God could decide that. Personally, my father signed your death warrants." He studied her face. Hadn't she heard him? "Fabala?"

She started. "I accept your apology, Av."

* * *

The fire crackled in the grate.

"We had a way out."

Glinda looked up from having set the mug before her cousin. "What'd you say, Fabala?" The young royal didn't remove her gaze from the crackling fire.

"We had a way out, if Cousin Everic had allowed it."

The blonde took a seat beside her cousin on the sofa, confused. She had forgotten how entwined the royal families of Oz were- Melena was a granddaughter of Ozma; her sisters had married into other royal houses; the Dowager Empress of Ev and Fliaan were sisters; hell, even the Tigelaars were related distantly to the Thropps somehow- not enough that it would have made a difference had Elphaba and Fiyero married as they were expected to, but still. The blood disease Melena, Elphaba and her sisters carried, that Shell was inflicted with, had stemmed from Ozma, who herself had been a carrier. _If Fabala had married Fiyero when she was supposed to, it wouldn't have made a difference. The blood was tainted from the very beginning, long before Elphaba and Fiyero's betrothal had even been thought of._ "I don't understand."

"Av told me today. Papa had written to Cousin Everic and asked for aslyum, but he rejected him. He asked for Mama and us instead of him, but Mama refused to leave him. And so instead he asked for us. But Cousin Everic-"

"He... no!" Glinda covered her mouth in shock.

"He was paranoid that one of us would take his throne, or that the people would turn against him and support Papa." Tears filled her eyes. "We had a possible way out, and because he was so concerned with keeping his own throne, he turned us away, Glinda. We could have been safe in Ev; we could have gotten out before everything happened- all of us. Raina, Elia, Nessa, Shell... we could have all gotten out. Mama wouldn't have left Papa, but we could have gotten out. At least we would have had each other; we would have been together. If we'd been allowed in Ev..." She choked on a sob. "If we'd been allowed in Ev like Papa wanted, I _wouldn't be alone_."

She burst into tears, and Glinda gathered the girl to her chest, cursing Everic silently. As far as she was concerned, he was the cause behind the massacre; he was the reason her cousins had perished, the reason innocence had been robbed that night in the basement of the House of Special Purpose. She hoped he stayed in Ev, because if she ever saw him again, she'd likely kill him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: I don't write the stories, I just upload them. Zanie wrote this back in '05, I highly doubt she'll change it now.** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"I don't want to, please don't make me."

"It's only lunch, Fabala."

"With half the remaining royal families of Oz." She muttered, leaning against the seat of the car. Glinda watched her cousin. Elphaba had been forced into a very nice light dress reminiscent of the ones she and her sisters often wore as teenagers. Her long black hair was pulled back in an elegant twist, and the sides held back with a set of emerald studded combs. The black heels she wore accented the dark green dress, and she wore the pendant at her neck. The car stopped in front of the palace, and after a moment, Glinda slipped out of the car.

"Fabala, think of it as lunch, that's all it is."

The young empress followed, linking arms with Glinda as they entered the palace. The snow fell softly, as though the snowstorm Elphaba had been caught in two weeks ago had never existed.

"I would rather go back to the apartment, Glinda. I know what this lunch is for. Parliament wishes to parade me before the rest of the royal houses of Oz, to show that the dynasty has returned, and that I am of... age to find a mate. Well, I have a mate. I do not need one."

Glinda sighed. "Fabala, you know that your marriage to Fiyero will never be recognized, not by the rest of the royals. He gave up his right to the throne. It will go to Trism now. Fiyero is no better than a commoner to the Vinkun family now."

Eventually, they entered the dining area, and all chatter stopped; people stood and waited. Glinda pulled away, dropping into a curtsy that the others followed. Elphaba looked around, drinking in everyone; some she hadn't seen for years, others she didn't know, but in some way, they were all family.

Ev, the Vinkus, Quox, Ix, the Rose Kingdom... so many she lost count. A moment passed, before she nodded, and then moved to take her seat. Partra sat at the head of the table; her sister, Sarima, at the other end.

Once she took her seat, all the others did as well. The pain was unbearable, but she was forcing herself to live through it; she had no choice, it was live through it or give up, and she couldn't do that. She caught Partra's eye, who nodded, and then turned to find herself sitting directly across from Trism. For a moment, she thought she was staring at Fiyero, but then the image faded, and the young prince smiled at her. She forced a smile back; he had been a mere boy when she saw him last. When had he grown up so? When had he gotten so handsome? Had Shell lived, would he have been as handsome as Trism was? Would he bear the same mischievous glint in his eye that Trism bore, the same devil-may-care smile?

She looked around, realizing that Avaric was sitting several chairs down, beside the young Queen of the Rose Kingdom; Arduenna, if she remembered right. Glinda was two seats down and across the table from her, engaged in conversation with the young Crown Prince of Ix, Grimalkin, who blushed when the blonde said something witty. This didn't feel right; her parents and siblings should have been here. She should have been sitting between Elia and Nessa, with Raina and Shell across from her- like they used to when attending luncheons like this when they were children. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shem, the young, newly crowned Emperor of Quox, sitting beside her; he smiled softly at her, reaching out to nudge her pinkie with his. She turned, returning the smile softly; his older brother Lenx had once been betrothed to Sophelia, but the oldest _Kauri_ had turned him down, refusing to leave Fliaan. _And to think, if she had married Lenx, Elia would have gotten out before the revolution hit._

She jumped, having been kicked beneath the table, and turned, see Trism grinning at her from across the place settings. Her gaze narrowed, and she swallowed thickly against the pain in her soul as the lunch began. She heard none of what Partra said, nor what anyone else said, and only looked up when someone laid a hand on her arm. After a moment, she raised her glass, mirroring the others.

"To a... strong union of the Vinkus and Fliaan, and... a... a strong alliance among our royal houses, the last of this great country of Oz."

Cries of 'Here, here!' and 'Amen!' were heard before sips were taken. She glanced at Glinda, who's eyes filled with sadness, and then she turned back to Partra. The question was clear, and after a moment, the dowager spoke up, voice tinged with sadness. "Do not give me that look, Fabala. You should be excited. There may only be a year between you, but that won't mean much, once the ceremony takes place."

"What... ceremony, Grandmama?" Elphaba whispered, dreading the answer. Tears appeared in Partra's eyes, and she wished she could shield her beloved granddaughter's heart and soul from what she was about to tell her.

"The wedding ceremony, Elphaba. Locasta and Traper have agreed to a match."

Nothing was registering. A match? A match to _who_? She was already married, to Fiyero-

"To... to _whom_?" The young empress choked out, fearing that she already knew the answer. Partra's gaze moved to the young man across from her granddaughter, but she didn't speak. It was Locasta who spoke, three seats down from Elphaba.

"Trism, Elphaba. You and Trism are to be married. Therefore, finally uniting the House of Thropp with the House of Tigelaar, as it should have been years ago, before the revolution swept through Fliaan."

Elphaba's head snapped towards Locasta; the older woman had sadness within her gaze, dripping from her voice. She no more supported the marriage than Partra did, but all there agreed that an alliance was needed, especially since Elphaba's return to Fliaan, and the Tigelaars were perhaps one of the strongest royal houses remaining in all of Oz. They had watched dynasties fall while theirs remained; they had witnessed in silent horror as the last of the Thropps had been toppled and the family destroyed- so to discover that one of the daughters of the last dynasty had survived- despite a Parliament now being in place within Fliaan, an alliance between the two neighboring countries would still be a good thing. Plus, the lines of both houses could continue...

The pain in her heart got stronger, and she stood, pushing away from the table, sending her wine glass toppling. The red liquid stained the tablecloth and dripped onto the floor; images of her sisters' blood filled her head, and she stumbled back. Others stood, concerned, and she stumbled into the chair, knocking it over, meeting Partra's gaze. "No. Grandmama, _please_... don't. You can't allow this. You _can't_! You know that I am already-"

"A common marriage to a common man," Traper replied, and Elphaba winced, horrified that he was speaking of his own son that way. The rest of the guests shared glances, most unaware of what was being spoken of, others fully aware that a secret marriage had taken place long before her identity had been confirmed. "Such marriages have never been allowed; they are the type that destroy royal houses." She met his gaze, tears slipping down her cheeks. He was wrong. She _knew_ what destroyed royal houses; she carried it within her. Her sisters had carried it, her mother, her brother had suffered from it.

"No, Your Majesty, you're wrong. 'Common' marriages do not destroy royal houses. Royal blood destroys royal houses. I should know, I carry it. My sisters carried it, my brother _suffered_ from it. It's royal blood, Your Majesty. Not common marriages. Royal blood." And without another word, she turned and rushed from the room, leaving the rest of the occupants in stunned silence.

* * *

Marriage? But she was already married-

"Elphaba?"

Slowly, she looked up from where she sat, curled up on the steps of the dais in the throne room. Locasta made her way towards the young empress, worry etched on her face. Her bright blue eyes filled with tears, and after a moment she took a seat beside the girl, resting a hand on her shoulders, but Elphaba shrugged her away.

 _"How can you allow this?"_ Elphaba demanded, meeting the woman's eyes. "I... I am already married... to _your son_."

Locasta's blue gaze closed, and she sighed, breath catching. _So what Partra said is true. My darling Yero did marry his betrothed after all._ She opened her eyes, reaching out to gently turn the girl's face towards her. The pain was evident, and suddenly Locasta knew what exactly she was suffering from.

"Soul sick." The girl nodded at the soft whisper, and the queen pulled her close, holding the young empress against her chest. "Oh, Elphaba... this is the last thing I ever wanted either you or Yero to suffer from."

 _"He doesn't care."_ She choked out, clinging to the older woman. "He left me not long after my identity was discovered; he walked out on me... because he doesn't feel that he belongs..."

"Yero has never felt that he belonged within the family." Locasta replied. "No matter what Traper or I said or did, he always felt that he had stolen a place in his family. He hated that he was the firstborn, the Crown Prince. He hated that his life was planned out for him. He would have been much happier had he been born into a common family, I knew it from the very beginning. He abhorred his diplomacy lessons, how he had to sit in on meetings with his father, the diplomatic visits he was forced to attend, the fact that we had arranged a marriage for him... he hated all of it. He hated us for being royal; he never said it, but I know he did. As soon as he could, he fled the Vinkus."

"He was there," Elphaba replied, pulling away to meet the older woman's eyes. _Your mother-in-law._ "He was in the basement that night, posing as a guard; he was assigned to... to kill me... and as the rest of my family was _slaughtered_ , he... he got me out. When they took us out of the basement, he took me and ran. Knocked me hard enough that I lost my memory, but he got me out. Took me to Munchkinland and left me in a field. I... I woke up in the rain hours later, no memory of what had happened or where I was or how I'd gotten there."

Locasta chuckled softly. "That sounds like my Yero." She reached up, cradling the girl's face in her hands. "You have grown into a very beautiful young woman, Elphaba." She gently brushed a flyaway strand off the girl's forehead. "You deserve so much more than the hand fate has dealt you. You deserve to have your family back, your sisters and brother."

"Would... would you have taken us in?" The queen started, surprised. Elphaba met her gaze. "If Papa had asked for asylum, would you have taken us in? He asked Cousin Everic, and he turned us away, because he was afraid he would lose his throne. Papa didn't want his throne, he just wanted safety for us, a place where we could have escaped and been safe. If he had asked, would you have taken us in, or turned us away like Cousin Everic did?"

Locasta swallowed thickly; the fact that Everic had been so afraid to lose his throne, he'd turned away a family- yes, Frex and Melena had blood on their hands, that was true, but the children... those five children were nothing but innocents; they had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve the fate they'd been handed, the slaughter they'd endured, the suffering they'd felt as their young lives were cut short. Sophelia, Oziandra, Elphaba, Nessarose, Shell... those children's crime- their _only_ crime- had been that they had been born royal.

To deserve such horrendous treatment, at the hands of revolutionaries, such violent ends...

Gently, she brushed a tear off the girl's cheek. "Had Frexpar written Traper and I and asked for asylum, we _absolutely_ would have given it. Fliaan is our neighbor, she was at that time our strongest ally, _of course_ we would have given you asylum, had your Papa asked. We would _never_ have turned you away. Never." She pulled the girl back to her, holding her close. "I'm so sorry, Elphaba. So sorry."

They sat for several minutes, before the girl whispered softly,

"I don't love Trism, Locasta. I love Yero. I'm married to Yero."

"I know you are, darling. I know. I don't believe in this alliance anymore than you do. And the last thing Partra wants is to force you into a marriage you won't be happy in."

"Then why is she?"

"Because her hands are tied, darling. The others in attendance believe that if Fliaan and the Vinkus are united by marriage, then that means if war comes, the alliance will be enough to back the rest of the royal houses."

Elphaba pulled away. "War? What war?"

Locasta swallowed, brushed a strand of hair off her shoulder; the twist had come loose, and raven strands were tumbling down her back. "There's talk of war, between Ev and Munchkinland. That other countries might come to Ev's defense, if that happens. Ev is pushing for an alliance between Fliaan and the Vinkus because blood is thicker than water."

"If Ev goes to war, then since I'm Partra's granddaughter, I will have no choice but to come to Ev's defense because my cousin in the King." She shook her head. "So I'm a pawn?"

"We are all pawns in this world, Elphaba. What makes us different is how we choose to move. Men believe they control the board, but women control the game. We always have. Our husbands move the way they do because we make them; they may wear the crowns, but we carry the line. Women have always carried the royal lines; the houses survive because of us. They are savages, and we are the refined, the ones who control what they do. Without us, they will fall, and they know it."

"I don't want to be a pawn, Locasta."

"Shh. I know you don't, Elphaba. No woman does." She held the girl close, stroking her back. "If we could get Yero to return and take his rightful place, that would be so much better, but he has never wanted the crown. He never wanted anything my husband and I planned for him; he detested the betrothal, and was determined to find his own bride." She chuckled. "His bride turned out to be the girl he was set to marry as a child." She pressed a kiss to Elphaba's head. "My son is _selfish_ ; I did _not_ raise him to be selfish. I didn't raise him to be a selfish boy, and I _certainly_ did not raise him to be a selfish young man. I did not raise him to treat others this way, to think only of himself, to cause this much pain. And if I _ever_ see him again, he will be lucky to escape back to whatever hovel he has hidden in alive. The pain he has caused you and my family is enough to warrant a hanging- and the last official Vinkun hanging took place back in the seventeen-sixties. But I would make an exception for him. He is proving that he is no better than the men who slaughtered your family."

"Fabala?"

Locasta looked up to see Glinda and Partra in the doorway; after a moment, Partra bid the blonde return to the lunch, and then moved to join the other two on the steps. "Is the marriage _truly_ necessary, Partra? Can we forgo it? There has always been an alliance between Fliaan and the Vinkus, marriage will not change that. She does not love my son- not this son- and I know she never will, because her heart belongs to-"

"I know it does, Locasta." The dowager empress knelt beside the two women, reaching out to brush a finger against her granddaughter's cheek.

"Their souls are tied, Partra. Marriage to Trism will not change the fact that her soul is tied to Fiyero's. It will not take away the pain of separation, or end the sickness she endures. Marriage to one Tigelaar in place of another will not make a difference. Her soul will still die, regardless."

The older empress nodded at the queen's soft whisper. "But we cannot find Fiyero, and if we could, he would not return, you know that, Locasta."

"When Yero wants to hide, he hides." The queen muttered. "Like a _rat_ in a _sewer_."

Partra chuckled softly. "I take it you don't agree with what he's done."

"I _did not raise him to be a selfish young man_ , Partra. I did not put the ideas he carries in his head. I don't know where he got such ideas, but I did not put them there; neither Traper nor I did. And Trism... Trism looked up to Fiyero so that he would _never_ think of putting such ideas into his brother's head. He _adored_ Fiyero, and when that boy left... Trism was inconsolable. He _insisted_ on going after his brother; I had lost one son, I could not bear to lose another."

The two older women were silent, only Elphaba's sobs breaking the silence.

"Convenience."

Partra turned, and Locasta looked up; Trism stood before them, hands in the pockets of his coat. He looked so much like his older brother, that for a moment, Locasta thought she was staring at her oldest son. The dowager empress stood, turning to the young prince. "What did you say, Trism?"

"A marriage of convenience, Your Majesty." He moved closer, kneeling before his mother and sister-in-law. "To the outside world, we present a united front, Fliaan and the Vinkus, but behind closed doors, it's nothing more than a paper marriage." He met Elphaba's gaze; she hiccuped, never removing her head from Locasta's chest. "I take it you consummated your marriage to my brother." Slowly, the young empress nodded. He nodded, meeting his mother's gaze. "No one besides us need know that our marriage won't be consummated. We can annul her marriage to Yero-"

"No!" Elphaba choked on a sob, burying her face in Locasta's chest, clinging tighter to the queen.

"Shh, Elphaba, hush."

"We might not have a choice, Fabala." Partra replied. "Because he gave up the throne, your marriage will never be recognized. Not by the rest of the royal houses. But a 'marriage' to Trism-"

"It would be similar to when my fiancee died. The contract was broken with his death, and I was free to marry Traper." Locasta whispered. Slowly, Trism knelt before the young woman, reaching out to take her hand.

"Elphaba. Elphaba, look at me. Please." Slowly, she raised her head, meeting his blue gaze. "I'm suggesting only a marriage of convenience. If we can find a way to keep your marriage to Yero a secret, and then marry-"

"That's bigamy, Trism-" She replied, sniffling.

"Not if everyone _thinks_ your marriage to my brother was annulled."

"I... I don't understand." She sat up, never letting go of Locasta's other hand; the queen gently stroked the young empress's head, wanting so much to interrupt, but knowing that her younger son was onto something.

"If everyone thinks your marriage to my brother was annulled, then they'll accept ours, even if it's only a marriage of convenience. We can present 'annulment papers' and a marriage 'certificate' to the rest of the world, and you can stay married to my brother. On the outside, our 'marriage' will be the united front we display, but behind closed doors, we will live as... as siblings, I guess you could say."

"Go through with the 'annulment' and the wedding, so that the people have something to cling to, but it's all a sham in reality." Locasta replied, and Trism nodded.

"The annulment papers will be nothing more than a cleverly worded declaration with a signature, but it won't be valid. An annulment needs both parties consenting-"

"He basically consents." Elphaba replied. "He walked out on me-"

"Like the _coward_ he is." Trism whispered. She nodded, and he squeezed her hand. "I'm so sorry, Fabala. I know how much you love him." He glanced at his mother and her grandmother. "Will that work? If we present a 'marriage' to the rest of the royal houses, and therefore the alliance that everyone so desperately wants, but in reality, it's nothing more than what they want to see? To the rest of the world, her marriage to my brother will have been annulled and our marriage will be real, but-"

"In reality, your marriage will be fake, and the marriage she is already in is real." Locasta finished. Partra nodded.

"That could work." The dowager replied, glancing at her granddaughter. Elphaba looked from one to the other, not sure what to think.

"I..."

"We won't do it unless you consent, Elphaba." Trism whispered, squeezing her hand. She met his gaze. Already, Trism was proving to be more of a man than his brother had ever been. He was willing to step up and fix Fiyero's mistakes; care for the woman his brother had claimed for years to love, and who had yet run off at the first sign of his carefully ordered plan falling apart. Already, Trism was more than half the man Fiyero was.

 _Yero was right, Trism is more suited to the crown that he was. He's already acting like the king his brother_ should _have been._

A moment passed, before she bit her lip. "What... what about... children? I... I won't pass this disease onto my children. I won't have my daughters become carriers; I won't have my sons suffer _like my brother suffered_." She choked on a sob, thinking of the nights when she and her sisters would huddle in their playroom in front of the fire, covering their ears to their brother's screams of pain, praying that the bleeding would stop and that Shell would be okay.

"If- and only if- we have a child, then we'll be careful. We'll watch, and if anything that even remotely looks like the disease your brother carried... we'll do our best to contain it."

"We won't tell?" She asked, voice small. "The people didn't know... they didn't know that Shell was sick... Mama and Papa kept it from the people... they were afraid that there would be riots if the people knew that the heir was sick... that he could die at any moment, from even the smallest cut or bump..."

Trism shook his head. "We won't tell. The people won't know. The secret died with your brother, okay?" She nodded, as the young prince brought her knuckles to his mouth and pressed a kiss to them. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, her breathy whisper choked with tears.

 _"Thank you."_

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing gently. A kiss pressed against her head, and he sighed, meeting his mother's gaze. _You're doing the right thing, Trism. You shouldn't be cleaning up Fiyero's mess, but you're doing the right thing. At least she'll be protected by the Tigelaar name, for however long she needs, regardless of whether Fiyero ever gets his act together or not. At least she'll be protected, like she should have been when the revolution hit._

Partra rested a hand on his other shoulder, squeezing gently, the meaning clear. _Thank you, for doing what your brother refused to. Thank you, for taking care of my granddaughter._

Trism held his sister-in-law close, wanting so badly to find his brother and beat sense into him. He loved Fiyero, but this... abandoning the girl he'd loved since childhood... this was unforgivable. _Absolutely_ unforgivable. He swore, that if he ever saw his brother again, he'd not _only_ give Fiyero a piece of his mind, but show him what happened to men who ran away from their responsibilities, royalty or no, regardless of whether he wanted the throne.

 _This is the last thing my brother runs from. If he ever comes back, I'll make sure he gets the rudest awakening of all._

* * *

 _"Please! I promise, I won't tell! I promise!"_

A scream woke him from his fitful slumber. It took several minutes for him to realize that though the scream had long since vanished, the pounding on the door hadn't. After a moment, he stumbled to his feet. The pain was still there; he ignored it as best he could, and stumbled to answer the door.

"It's about time. Do you know how long I've been standing there?" She pushed past him, stepping into the room. He shut the door, mouth dropping open. It had been so long since he'd seen her, that it took a moment before he recognized her. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been... six? Ten? He couldn't remember, it'd been so long.

"Ah... Nastoya, what are you doing here?"

Princess Nastoya of Ev, younger sister of Avaric, and cousin to the Thropp children, turned from her examining of this... hovel. Oh hell, it was a hole. Her long, sandy hair tumbled down her back in curls, held away from her face with a jewel-studded headband, and she wore the type of dress one would see on a young woman in the City. Her almost catlike features studied him, and after a moment, she removed something from within her coat, moving towards him. Nastoya had been following the story of the missing Kauri in the papers, when she'd realized that her cousin was the man who had discovered the girl was _actually_ the missing Thropp princess. Avaric had filled her in on what had transpired since Elphaba's return to Fliaan, and once she'd heard that Fiyero had walked away from the girl he loved- that he'd married- and left her to fend for herself because he wanted nothing to do with their world of royalty- completely forgetting that or ignoring the fact that he himself was royalty- she knew that she had to find her disappearing cousin. Payback was a bitch, and so was she, she decided. It served him right, after all he'd done to Elphaba.

"I've spent the last several _weeks_ looking for you, Cousin Yero. You're exceedingly difficult to find, you know that?" She replied; Locasta was her... aunt, if Fiyero remembered right.

"That's great, but... but why?" He asked, leaning against the counter, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. She moved closer, slamming the newspaper she held into his chest and making him cough.

"I figured you should hear it from someone else in the royal family before you read it in the papers. Your beloved Fae, the girl you claimed to have married and then discovered was _actually_ the missing _Kauri_? She's marrying Trism. They're annulling your marriage to her, so she can marry your brother. Half the family believes your marriage to her to be illegal anyway, so." She shrugged. "Despite the revolution, Fliaan and the Vinkus will still be united, just through a different marriage. Trism will certainly make a better husband than you did; he doesn't run from his responsibility because he doesn't want the crown." She moved closer, until their faces were inches apart. "As far as the majority of the royal houses are concerned, you're dead. Aunt Locasta had made it very clear, that if you show your face in the Vinkus again, you'll receive a very public trial and hanging. Mom and Dad want nothing to do with you; Elphaba's clearly moved on. Don't think you can walk back into Fliaan and expect to get her back. She wants nothing to do with you. You're a royal pariah, Yero. And you did it to yourself."

She rose onto her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he unfolded the paper, his eyes widening in surprise. There was no way that right.

 _MARRIAGE BETWEEN YOUNG EMPRESS OF FLIAAN AND PRINCE OF THE VINKUS ANNOUNCED!_

He met her gaze, and she shook her head. "You did it to yourself, Yero." Then, she turned, going back to the door and pulling it open. "Don't expect an invitation; I highly doubt you'll be invited to the wedding." She stepped out, but turned back. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Yero. You claim to have loved Elphaba from the moment you met, but it's _Trism_ who's marrying her because you're too much of a _coward_ to accept that your blood is still royal and always will be. You claim to be so much better than the rest of the royals, but in reality, you're no better than the _savages_ who _slaughtered_ Fabala's family in that _basement_ ten years ago. Open your eyes, Yero. You walked away from the throne, and you walked away from her. What is she supposed to do? Wait? She's doing the right thing, she's moving on. Not because she _wants_ to, but because you didn't give her a _choice_. I hope you're proud of yourself."

Then, without another word, she left, shutting the door behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"I hope you know that I don't condone Fiyero for what he did. He had no right to walk away. He's a coward-"

Elphaba laid a hand on Trism's arm, silencing him. "Thank you." She rose onto her toes, brushing a kiss to his cheek, before moving down the steps and making her way into the car. Glinda followed, casting a glance at the young prince, before joining her cousin. The luncheon had ended fairly quickly, and Partra had excused her granddaughter, claiming that Elphaba was still recovering from a bout of illness, and with all the excitement of the last few weeks, it was best she return home. Once the car door shut behind them, and pulled away, Glinda turned to her cousin.

"Fabala, what is going on?"

The young empress glanced at her cousin, before returning her gaze to the window she'd been staring out of. "It's complicated, Glinda."

"Complicated?" The blonde raised an eyebrow. "No, Fabala, the family trees of the royal houses of _Oz_ are complicated, because they're so... intermarried and connected. That's complicated. Keeping everyone in that room today straight, in regards to which family and house they come from, _that's_ complicated. Making sure-"

"I'm getting married, Glinda."

The blonde stopped, mouth dropping and eyes widening in surprise. "I... I... but... but you're already..."

Elphaba shrugged. "It's not a valid marriage. We're going to annul it, and I'm going to marry Trism."

"But... but Fiyero-"

"Fiyero is a coward, Glinda. He never wanted the crown, and therefore, he never wanted _me._ He wanted me until he realized I really was the princess, and then he ran. It was a sham marriage. An annulment is for the best."

"But... but Trism! Fabala, he's... he's Fiyero's _brother_ -"

"I know he is, Glinda. But he's willing to overlook his brother's mistakes for the sake of this alliance. He is ten times more the man that Fiyero _ever_ was." She turned back to the window, making it clear that the conversation was over. Glinda sat back, a thousand questions running through her head. She'd seen Trism get up and leave the table not long after she'd returned, but hadn't any idea where he'd gone. Apparently, it was to talk to Elphaba, and come to some sort of agreement.

"So..." She stopped, choosing her words carefully. "This... marriage... will it be... real?"

"More real than my marriage to Yero." Came the soft whisper.

Glinda nodded. "And... ch... children?"

Silence. Then,

"If we're careful."

"But what about... about the disease?"

More silence.

"If we're really careful."

* * *

She sat at the vanity, watching as the maid worked on her hair. The engagement photographs were going to be taken today, and she knew that she had to look her best; her sanity depended on it. "There you go, Your Majesty."

She nodded to the maid and then stood, hurrying from the room. She followed the sound of voices into the throne room of the Winter Palace, to find Trism and his parents, Partra, Glinda and her parents, and several others there with the photographer. "Your Majesty." Bows and curtsies announced her entrance, and she quickly plastered a smile onto her face. "Ah, Elphaba, there you are." She took Partra's hand, accepting the kiss her grandmother pressed to her cheek.

"You look lovely, Fabala." Trism whispered, and she blushed.

"Thank you, Trism." She replied, nervously smoothing the skirt of her dress. It was simple, and harkened back to the era of her parents; to the dresses she and her sisters would wear in their formal portraits. The long, ankle-length gown was layered with two rows of beads, cinched at her waist, and had a scoop neck, along with sleeves that flowed to an inch above her elbows. A string of pearls hung around her neck, and she wore a white headband in her long black hair, which had been pulled back and pinned up. Glinda gasped, covering her mouth.

"Oh, Fabala, you look like your sisters." Tears came to the blonde's eyes; she had been there when the formal portraits were taken in nineteen-fourteen, when Elphaba had been ten. The sisters had worn dresses similar to the one Elphaba wore now; Sophelia and Oziandra had worn their hair up, while Elphaba and Nessarose had kept their hair down and tied back with bows. It was striking, the resemblance she bore to her sisters. Elphaba gave her cousin a watery smile, and reached up, brushing at the tears gathering on her lashes.

"Glinda, don't make me cry." She swallowed, taking a deep breath against the tears threatening to fall.

 _She laughed as Nessa made a face, trying desperately to get Sophelia to break, but the oldest Kauri refused._

 _"Ow!" She turned; Oziandra had pinched her firmly. "That wasn't nice, Raina!"_

 _"That's what you get for laughing, Fabala!" Her sister replied, before doing the same to Nessa, who jumped with a squeak. "Now behave, both of you, otherwise Mama will be cross!" The younger sisters shared a glance, before moving closer; Oziandra leaned against the chair Sophelia sat in, and Nessa moved closer to the chair Elphaba was sitting in. Their gazes moved to the book that lay open on the table between them, and they froze, hearing the pop of the camera flash. Once they were allowed to move again, Nessa grabbed her older sister's hand, taking a seat beside her on the chaise lounge the girls had been asked to sit on, side by side._

 _Both Sophelia and Oziandra sat with backs rail straight, ever the proper young women Melena raised them to be. Elphaba slouched slightly, and then straightened when she felt Oziandra pinch her thigh. Only Nessa slouched completely- resting her head on Elphaba's shoulder, as the camera's flashbulb cracked, capturing the innocence and beauty of the Samraat's four daughters forever in time._

The blonde shook her head. "I'm sorry, Fabala. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"Won't it be a good thing, though, to think that your sisters are with you today?" Trism asked, taking her hand, before reaching up and brushing a tear away. A camera flashed, capturing the moment forever, not that either noticed. She met his gaze.

"If only they were." She whispered; he leaned close, brushing a kiss to her forehead. Another flash, another moment frozen forever in time.

"Shall we?" She nodded, as they took a seat on the sofa set up for the photographs. They sat knee-to-knee, holding hands, smiling for the camera. The others watched in silence, until Glinda turned to Locasta and Partra.

"Are we doing the right thing? This... marriage?" The older women had filled the blonde in before Elphaba had arrived; the young countess had agreed, that it served Fiyero right, for how he'd treated the woman he claimed to love. Coward didn't begin to describe him, as far as Glinda was concerned. But she also knew that her beloved cousin was now in survival mode; something she had clearly learned during her time in the orphanage, if not during their brief house arrest before the massacre. That despite the pain of her soul being ripped apart a little more every day, she was pushing through, because she had to; just as her mother had whenever Shell was near death due to his disease, or one of the girls was suffering from something that set the whole family on edge. Just as they'd done as they'd waited for a rescue that would never come.

Yes, if there was one thing the Thropp family was good at in times of hardship, it was pushing through the pain for the sake of others.

"It's the best we can do, Glinda." Locasta replied, rocking gently on her heels. "We don't have a choice; not one that won't break down the alliances we have with the rest of the royal houses. Besides, Elphaba needs this. She needs to know that her needs are going to be put first, if not by Fiyero, then by his family. She's a ruler in her own right, but she'll be stronger- seen as a stronger ruler by the other houses- if she has one of the strongest royal families backing her. The Tigelaars can do that for her."

"But Fiyero-"

"Fiyero is not here." Locasta cut her off. "Fiyero ran away from his responsibility- to his family, to his people, to his country, to the girl he proclaimed to love and married. He ran away from his duty because he decided that he did not belong within the world he was _born_ into. And he left Elphaba to pick up the pieces. He is bearing no consequence to his actions, but the pain of being separated from the girl he loves. He knows full well that the only way to stop this is for him to come back, and he won't. No matter what, he won't. He's stubborn as a black bear. He'll stay away because it's better than fessing up to his mistakes and accepting the consequences."

"And if that means the girl he married marries his brother in a sham marriage?" The queen shrugged.

"From what Elphaba told us, their marriage started as a sham. It clearly didn't hold the importance it should have to him, since he walked away from it. Sham marriage or not, Trism will protect Elphaba. From the people who seek to do her harm because she's young, from the other royal houses and families of Oz, and even from his brother, should Fiyero get up the courage to show his face again. For now, this is the best thing for her; Trism will protect her. He'll do what Evric should have done, and be her asylum, for as long as she needs it, Fiyero be damned."

Glinda turned to Locasta. "You're... really mad at Fiyero, aren't you?"

Blue eyes flashed a deep, dark, stormy sapphire as the queen turned to the blonde. "What my son did is _unacceptable_ , Countess Upland." Locasta replied, and the blonde curled in on herself, knowing she'd overstepped when her title was used. "He is a _selfish, selfish individual_ , who deserves every amount of pain he is currently going through. Were he still a child, his punishment would be severe. As is, I think what he's going through is punishment enough. And if he _dares_ show his face by the wedding, _I_ will deal with him personally. He is not going to just waltz back and expect to take her back, not after everything he's put her through. I won't allow it. My son needs to stay far, far away until _long_ after the wedding. And even then, _maybe_ we'll be able to forgive him for the situation he's put Elphaba in. It's going to be her decision, whether she forgives him or not, but right now... right now, she needs to make the best of the situation she's in, and get her bearings back. And Trism can help. He knows what it's like to lose his soulmate, after all."

Glinda raised an eyebrow. "Who... who was..." But Locasta didn't respond, and Glinda turned back to the session at hand. A moment passed, before she suddenly realized who Locasta was talking about. Trism held Elphaba close; he whispered something that made her laugh, and it became infinitely clear. "Nessa?"

Locasta nodded, confirming the blonde's question. "Trism has loved Nessarose almost as long as Fiyero has loved Elphaba. He decided that he was going to marry her, after Fiyero married Elphaba of course. He kept one of her formal portraits by his bed for years, and... and when it was rumored that one of the girls had possibly survived... he hoped, prayed, that it was Nessarose." She shook her head. "He was crushed when it was discovered that she hadn't survived. He doesn't blame Elphaba, he understands that off the four of them, she had the strongest chance of surviving that night, but he misses Nessarose deeply. He told me after the luncheon that day that marrying Elphaba and keeping her close was the best he could do; that it was what she would have wanted- for the sister she loved so much to be protected. That Elphaba had been protecting her the majority of their lives, and that the best she could do, would be to have the boy she loved protect her sister in return. This marriage is a good thing, Glinda. If not for Fliaan and the Vinkus, then for Trism and Elphaba."

"How? How is this marriage good for either Trism or Elphaba?"

The queen watched her son and daughter-in-law; either way, despite the son, Elphaba was her daughter-in-law. She knew the girl would always be her daughter-in-law, from the time of the betrothal, she had known. Trism pulled Elphaba close, sliding an arm around her waist; she rested a hand on his chest; the simple emerald ring glinted in the light. Fiyero had never given her a ring; it had been the last thing on their minds, honestly. A moment passed, before the two locked gazes, and then Trism leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to her lips, that the camera froze in time with the crack of a flashbulb.

"Because they can learn to move on from the pain of losing their loved ones together. Elphaba can learn to accept that she survived, not because she was meant to, but because she had the strongest, the best chance of all of them, and Trism can learn to accept that _not all_ of the Thropps were lost, like he thought for the last ten years. They can grieve and learn and grow together. They can teach each other that the blood spilled, that the family destroyed, that the dynasty that was toppled does not define them- who they were supposed to be in a bygone era, or who they're supposed to be now. The Thropp and Tigelaar families were always meant to be linked through marriage, Glinda, we are just going about it a different way, because we have to. They are the last survivors of their dynasties, Trism and Elphaba are. In separate ways, but still."

"I don't understand."

Locasta sighed, watching the session in silence for several minutes. "Fiyero will learn that he can't just walk away whenever he wants, and Elphaba will learn that not all of the royals will turn her away like Everic did her family during the revolution; that we will be there to catch her if she needs it, because she is one of ours. And Trism will learn that Fiyero is not the man he thought his brother was, that the mistakes Fiyero made, he can help fix, even in a small way. He is not the helpless little boy he was when his brother left; he is stronger than his brother ever was. He will care for Elphaba the way Fiyero refused to. It won't fix her soul, but maybe, just maybe, it will mend her heart."


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"Fabala? Where are you going?"

She stopped, turning back. "I just... I need some air."

Glinda nodded. "I'll come with-"

"No, no, that's okay, Glinda. I'll go with her. I promise, I'll be a gentleman." Trism replied, sweeping past the blonde and offering the young empress his arm, which she took without a second thought. The blonde watched in shock as the young couple slipped out of the double doors, disappearing down the hallway. They walked for several minutes in silence, before reaching the throne room. He shut the doors softly behind them, joining her on the steps of the dais. "The air in here is rather... stale."

She smiled softly at him. "Let them think we went outside. I just... I want some time away from them."

He nodded. "I understand. It can be... stifling."

They sat in silence for several minutes, before Elphaba pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. She studied the floor for several seconds, before turning to him. "I'm sorry, Trism." Tears filled her gaze, and he reached up, gently brushing the tears away.

"For what?" She sniffled, pressing her cheek into his palm, needing the contact.

"Nessa." She choked out, lifting her head with a sob. He sighed, suddenly understanding what had been plaguing her all day.

"Oh, Fabala. Come here." She curled into his chest, small body shaking with sobs. "Shh, it's not your fault."

"Yes it is."

"No. No, it's not."

"Nessa's dead because I survived, Trism." She choked out against his chest, and he tightened his hold on her, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"No, Fabala. Nessa's dead because she was a twelve-year-old girl who was trapped in a locked basement with her family, facing a firing squad. She is not dead because you survived. Your survival had nothing to do with whether she died or not. You survived because one of the guards recognized you and decided to get you out." It didn't escape Elphaba's notice that Trism refused to say his brother's name. She didn't blame him; with all the pain he was putting her through, she didn't want to think of his name either. Not right now.

After a moment, she pulled away, meeting his gaze through her tears. "How... how do you handle it? The pain?" She hiccuped. "Nessa was your soulmate-"

He sighed. "Honestly? It's unbearable at times. It's the most unbearable pain I've ever felt. I don't know how I manage to get up every day. I do know what you're going through, though."

She sniffled. "I thought... that if one died, the other-"

"Apparently not," He chuckled softly. "I... I didn't just give up because I knew that... that my giving up would be the last thing Nessa would want. She wouldn't want me to join her, not when I can look after her sister for her." He took her hand, lacing their fingers. "Fabala, I love Nessa. I will _always_ love Nessa. Just as you will always love... love Yero." He whispered, reaching up to brush the tears away. "Had things panned out like they were supposed to, had the revolution not happened, I would have married her, just as... as my brother would have married you, when the time was right. But she is part of a future that only exists in my dreams. That future will never exist, not in reality." Gently, he brought her hand up, brushing a kiss to the knuckles. "We have to learn to move on without them, Fabala. No matter the pain they put us through."

"I don't know how. I've... I've never felt this type of pain before."

He nodded, understanding. "It's the worst pain imaginable."

"That doesn't even begin to describe it." She replied. "It... it feels as though... as though I'm... I'm being torn apart from the inside out."

"And you don't know when or if it's ever going to end." She nodded.

"I just... I just want it to... to stop." They locked eyes, and he squeezed her hand.

"As long as you're apart, it never will. Trust me, Fabala, I know. Nothing will fix this type of pain except the other half of your soul."

"I know." She whispered, scooting closer, wanting to feel the protection she'd felt earlier. "What do we do? How... how do we... make living with this... bearable?"

He rested his forehead to hers, closing his eyes in thought. They sat in silence for several minutes, foreheads touching, eyes closed, drinking in the comfort of each others' presence, before, "We do the best we can, with what we've been given. We accept that as of now, our souls will never be complete, and we grin and bear it. We make the best of a bad situation, with the grace and humility of the blood in our veins, and..." He swallowed thickly. "And we make our families proud."

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his. "I... I don't have a family, Trism." Her whisper broke his heart, and he reached up, cradling her head in his hand. He shook his head, shushing her softly.

"That's not true, Fabala."

"Yes it is."

"Shh. No, it's not. You have a family."

She shook her head. "My family is dead, Trism. My parents, my brother, my sisters-"

"You have Partra, and Glinda, and my parents, and your cousins..."

"But they aren't my _family_."

He brushed a tear off her cheek. "You have me, Fabala." His knelt down, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. She reached up, grabbing a handful of his shirt, drinking in the kiss, in the feel of being in someone's arms, in the feel of protection. Neither noticed the door shutting. After several minutes, Trism slowly pulled away, resting his forehead to hers again. "You have me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

* * *

Glinda quickly backed away, her body hitting the far wall as the door shut behind her. She'd told Locasta and Partra that she'd go get Trism and Elphaba so they could finish the shoot, but before making it outside, something had drawn her to the throne room. She'd pushed the door open as far as she dared; heard the entire conversation- how Trism would always love Nessa, but he understood that his duty was to protect Elphaba, because it's what the girl would have wanted, and that the best way for them to get over the pain of their souls being ripped apart was to do what they were doing, and make the best of the situation they'd been put into.

And she'd seen the kiss.

But what she didn't understand was that it wasn't the kiss of two lovers having found each other again, but of two individuals seeking comfort in each other; finding that connection that both were missing, due to the missing pieces of their souls. That such a kiss was nothing more than a comfort to the other.

Taking a deep breath, she moved away from the wall, and rushed back to where the others were, trying desperately to forget what she'd seen.

The engagement photos would be published a week later, and by then, Glinda would forget all about the kiss.

* * *

 _"Will you really marry the Vinkun Crown Prince, Fabala?"_

 _"I don't want to, Nessa. I don't want to leave Fliaan. I don't want to leave you or Shell or Rainia or Elia, or Mama and Papa."_

 _"What if... what if I came with you, Fabala?"_

 _She sat up, confused. "I don't understand, Nessa."_

 _The child sat up, pulling a pillow into her arms. "If you marry Fiyero and moved to the Vinkus... what if I came with you and married Trism?"_

 _"Nessa! You are only ten! You do not know what love is!" The girl shrugged._

 _"You love Fiyero, don't you?" Elphaba thought a moment, before she shrugged. "I love Trism." The girls lapsed into silence for several minutes, before,_

 _"Nessa? Would you really marry Trism? Just so you could be with me?"_

 _The child nodded, though her sister couldn't see her in the darkness. "Of course I would. I wouldn't want you to be lonely, Fabala. I love you. The last thing I would ever want is for you to be left alone. I couldn't bear it if you were left alone, without me or someone there to take care of you."_

 _"But I take care of you, Nessa." The girl shrugged._

 _"And when you aren't looking, I take care of you, Fabala." The girl yawned, as sleep swept her eyelids closed._

Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up, the memory still fresh in her mind. She remembered that conversation- or bits and pieces. Nessa had been so certain of herself, even at the tender age of ten. After a moment, she climbed out of bed, moving until she'd dropped down by the still-burning fire in the grate. Tears filled her eyes as she thought back to the last time she'd seen her sister, in the basement of the House of Special Purpose.

"Oh, Nessa..." She covered her mouth with her hand. "Please, forgive me, Nessie."

 _Fabala, don't cry. It's okay, I promise. I could never be angry with you. I understand, believe me, I do. I only want you to be safe, Fabala. I love you._

* * *

He stopped, gaze going to the images on the cover of the newspaper. He forced himself out today, only to be greeted with the images before him. Absentmindedly, he paid the man, and took the newspaper, stumbling towards the small cafe, gaze glued to the grainy black and white photographs.

His brother, and his wife...

 _So it's official. They're really getting married. Probably annulled your marriage to her while they're at it. Doesn't surprise me, after all you put her through, all the pain, she deserves to be happy. You brought this pain on yourself when you walked out on her._ He shook his head. _But Trism isn't her soulmate, I am._ The tiny voice in the back of his head snorted. _Does that matter? He's obviously marrying her to protect her from the scandal you caused- walking out on the new empress of Fliaan, after marrying her and planning on taking the reward and disappearing... Trism's probably marrying her to quiet the whispers and help her save face._ _Your brother always was more suited to the world of royal games than you were. She deserves him. He'll treat her properly, the way a husband should. He'll be the husband she deserves._

The pain got worse, but he ignored it, knowing that his head was right, and he deserved every ounce of pain that was inflicted on his soul for what he'd done to her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

The material was cool against her skin, not that she noticed. She noticed nothing but the thoughts racing in her head, the fact that this time around, she would be wearing an actual wedding gown, unlike what she'd worn at the courthouse in Nest Hardings. "There, I'm done, Your Majesty. Your Majesty?"

Her head snapped up. "I'm sorry?"

The seamstress stood, setting her puff of pins down. "I'm done. Would you like to see?"

"Oh, Yes, of course."

She reached out, taking the woman's hand and lifting the skirt, being careful to step down, before allowing herself to be led to the full length mirror in the front of the shop. Locasta and Glinda stopped talking as soon as she stepped out, and the blonde let out a squeal. "Oh, Fabala! You look beautiful!"

After a moment, the young empress turned to glance at the seamstress, before going to the nearest mirror.

The dress was unlike anything her mother would have worn for her own wedding. The beautiful cut of the dress hugged her curves, the scoop neck and flared shoulders reminded her of the formal gowns she and her sisters had worn, while the drop waist was very much the current era they lived in. The skirt hit the floor, and the train was small, but had a beautiful effect. The seamstress pulled her hair back.

"We'll put your hair up, and add a tiara and the veil, of course. You'll be an absolutely beautiful bride, Your Majesty."

"Thank you." She whispered, the pain getting worse, though she tried her hardest to ignore it.

* * *

"Master Tigelaar is here, Your Majesty."

The conversation she was having with Glinda was cut short, and she looked up, to find one of the maids enter the sitting room with Trism in tow. The young empress glanced at her cousin, before setting the notepad and pen on the table and slowly getting up. She moved towards the two, nodding to the maid. "Thank you, Cattery. Would you mind fixing coffee for us?"

The maid nodded, and quickly disappeared to do as requested, as Trism took Elphaba's hand, bringing it to his lips. "Fabala."

"Trism."

Glinda watched the exchange, noticing the pain both appeared to be in; the same pain, caused by the same thing, though of two entirely different circumstances. He joined them on the sofa, taking a seat on the other side so that Elphaba was situated between them. After the drinks arrived, Elphaba dismissed the maid and the trio settled into silence.

"How are you two doing?" Glinda asked, fixing a cup of tea that had also been brought. She watched her cousin closely, saw how the young woman shifted closer to the young prince, how she seemed to relax into the comfort his mere presence gave her.

"It's..." The two shared a glance. "Getting there." Elphaba replied, sipping her coffee.

"Look, Glinda, I know you don't fully trust this plan-"

"You're right, Trism, I don't." She set her cup down. "And after what Fiyero pulled, can you blame me? Your brother toyed with my cousin, he fell in love with her, he used her and then he just walked away like it was no big deal."

"Glinda, please." Elphaba whispered, flinching as the blonde quickly lost her composure. She tried her hardest to hide the pain her soul was in, but it wasn't helping; Trism laid a hand on hers, and she did her best to draw strength from his touch, after all, he was experiencing the same pain.

"So forgive me, Trism, if I don't exactly trust this plan you two have concocted. But the last plan Fabala was involved in blew up in her face and left her soul struggling to survive-"

"You think I don't realize that?" He cut her off. "You think I don't understand what it feels like to have your soul _ripped apart at the seams_? Forgive me my impertinence, Glinda, but I had my soul ripped apart ten years ago, when the girl I loved was _slaughtered_ in the _basement_ of that mansion at twelve-years-old." Elphaba winced at the mention of her sister and the massacre that had claimed her family, and Trism squeezed her hand. "Or did you forget that I was thirteen at the time? Do you know what it feels like, to feel your soul start to die when you realize that the girl you've loved since childhood has been murdered? I knew the _exact moment_ Nessa drew her last breath, because that was when my soul died. And I will never get that back, because I will never get _her_ back. But if I can look after Fabala for her-"

Elphaba set her cup down roughly on the table and stood, stumbling away from them and going to the fireplace. "That's enough, both of you." She muttered, pulling the light jacket she wore tighter around her small frame. _"I said that's enough!"_ She snapped when neither seemed to hear her. Both turned to her, and she leaned against the mantel, gaze going to the fire. Trism was up and by her side in seconds, resting a hand on her shoulder, which she reached up and covered with one of her own. "This is hard enough as it is, I don't need you two arguing and making it worse."

"I'm sorry, Fabala." Glinda whispered, and Trism whispered his apology against her hair. She nodded, turning to them both, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"You think I want to go through with this? No offense, Trism-"

"None taken, Fabala." He replied. "My sentiments, exactly."

"You're both in love with people who will never return it." Glinda replied, suddenly understanding why they were agreeing to such a sham.

"One of them can't return it because she's dead, and the other might as well be dead." Elphaba replied, curling into Trism's embrace and burying her face in his chest. "I might as well be a widow." He pressed a kiss to her head.

"We're doing the best we can, with the circumstances we've been given, Glinda. We have no choice, not really." He met Elphaba's gaze when she pulled away. "This is the best option we have." He took her hand, gently rubbing circles against her skin. "If we're lucky, we can make something of this life we've been given, start fresh from the ashes of the revolution."

"But the revolution claimed Fabala's family, Trism, not yours-"

"The revolution destroyed both dynasties, Glinda." Elphaba whispered. "It destroyed my family, and any hope of an alliance between Fliaan and the Vinkus through marriage. This is no love match, Glinda, but..." She met his gaze. "But it's the next best thing. If it can help me move on from what... from what Fiyero did... then I'm willing to take that chance."

"But a marriage without love?"

Trism shrugged. "Marriages have been built without love for hundreds of years, Glinda. It's not a new concept. We aren't the first to fall victim to it." He met Elphaba's gaze, before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"What about children? Never mind the blood disease, but... would you really have children in a loveless marriage?" The couple shared a glance; she rested a hand on his chest, letting him handle the answer, because she couldn't speak without thinking of her brother.

"They would never be unloved, Glinda. No child deserves to be unloved." He pressed another kiss to her forehead. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"This is the best thing for us, Glinda. Fiyero is never coming back. I need to move on." Elphaba replied, meeting her cousin's gaze.

* * *

The days passed with preparations for the wedding. Elphaba did the best she could, in regards to the pain in her soul; Trism's presence, and the constant knowledge that he was suffering the same pain, helped her to know that she wasn't facing this alone. The loss of one's soulmate- dead or alive- was possible to live through; Trism was proof. He'd lost Nessa, and still managed to continue on each day. She drew her strength from him, and the knowledge that this was the best thing for her now, with Fiyero having run away.

So it was one rainy afternoon that Trism came to see her, and that the subject of where they would reside after the wedding came up.

"I won't leave Fliaan." Trism sipped his coffee in silence, watching his intended with wide blue eyes. "I spent ten years of my life away from Fliaan because of your brother. I won't do it again. I'm Fliaanian and I will remain Fliaanian, Trism. Marrying you won't change that."

He set his cup down. "I'm not arguing, Fabala. I don't think you should leave Fliaan either. You're its ruler-"

"I'm a figurehead, Trism, darling." She replied, picking up her cup. "I have no more power than your brother does. Parliament runs Fliaan now, not my family and not me." He moved closer, reaching down and taking her hand.

"You still give the say, Fabala, love." He whispered, bringing her hand up to kiss. "Parliament is parliament. They're a bunch of stuffy old men who believe they run the country, when in reality, it's _you_ who makes the ultimate decision." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Parliament controls the board, but you control the game. Every move those men make, they make because you tell them too."

She lowered her cup, Locasta's words ringing in her head. _Men believe they control the board, but women control the game._ "I'm a pawn, Trism. In this game of royal chess, I'm nothing but a pawn."

He met her gaze, shaking his head. "You're not a pawn, Fabala. My brother was a pawn who thought he was a king, unaware that he did not control the game. And he's paying for it. But you... you're not a pawn, not in any way, shape or form."

"Then what am I, Trism, if not a pawn?"

He squeezed her hand, his gaze steadily holding hers. "In this royal chess game, you're the strongest piece of all: the queen. We all do what you tell us to. You control every move we make. Parliament, Glinda, Partra even. My parents, me. I'm not stupid, Fabala. I understand very well that I am not the one in control of this game. I'm merely a piece on the board, I am simply doing what you tell me too. You tell me to move, I'll ask 'how far, Your Majesty?'" He brought her hand to his lips, never breaking her gaze. "I may be the king, but you're my queen. I bow to you and no one else."

She sighed and set her cup down before standing and going to the fireplace. "You got it wrong, Tris." She whispered, gaze locking on the flames. He was right though, she controlled everything that happened within Parliament, whether they realized it or not. They answered to her; they only passed bills if she approved them. They only went to war if _she_ agreed.

And the other houses... lowly queens and kings, emperors without mates, princes and princesses; they all played to her. Her return was the best thing that could happen to Fliaan since her parents ruled. She'd grown up a mere princess of her home country, had watched in silence as her parents made decision bad decision; her father- the Unnamed God rest his soul- was a weak man, and Frexpar knew it. And her mother... she loved Mama with all her heart, but Mama had put too much of her faith in Yackle, simply because the healer could do what no doctor could, and heal her beloved baby brother. She and her sisters knew, that by the time Papa had abdicated, he was no longer making the decisions; Yackle was making the decisions, whispering in Mama's ear, who in turn whispered in Papa's.

Yes, Papa was weak, Mama clung too much to her faith, and by the end, it was Yackle running the country, with her parents as figureheads. If Elphaba were honest with herself, she knew that the revolution had been the best thing for Fliaan. With Yackle dead and gone... if only her family had survived. Out from under Yackle's influence, Mama would return to the woman she had been; she and Papa could have fixed the mistakes they'd made, they didn't have to pay with their lives, and they _certainly_ didn't have to take their children with them. Mistakes had been made, but that only proved that Papa and Mama were human, and didn't deserve the fate that had befallen them.

No one deserved that fate.

But Trism was right. The rest of the royal houses of Oz bowed to her, as they had once bowed to Papa and Mama. For though the houses were interconnected- mainly through Mama's line- they still bowed to her. Melena had been the most powerful woman in Oz since Ozma. When she hadn't been under Yackle's influence, she'd been a force to be reckoned with. Frex only made the decisions he did because Melena told him to; she'd done as Locasta had said, she controlled the game and the players, and she'd done it well until Yackle had shown up.

Papa had bowed to Mama, as Trism would bow to her. As Fiyero _should_ have bowed to her. Like Melena before her, Elphaba held all the cards; she was the strongest woman in all of Oz, the most powerful. But unlike Melena, her daughter would bow to no one. Yackle was no more; there would be no more like the mystic that had taken over the family. Were she to bear a son that suffered like her brother, she would turn to doctors, not mystics like her mother had. And if she ever did turn to mystics, they would bow before her, not the other way around. Yes, Elphaba had learned from her mother's mistakes.

She would not weaken like Melena had. She would not let others tell her what to do. _She_ would tell _them_ what to do. She would be a stronger ruler than either of her parents were. She would make sure of it. She would not let history repeat itself. "You got it wrong."

"And what did I get wrong, my queen?" He asked, getting up and going to her. She turned, meeting his gaze, lifting her head.

"I'm not a queen." She replied, and he blushed, realizing his mistake.

"Of course not, my darling." He bowed, making it clear that he recognized his place in this game they were forced into. She held out a hand.

"I will _never_ be a lowly queen. I was born one of the highest princesses in all of Oz. I will not be taken down because of who I marry. I may end up a Vinkun queen, but I will never be of that station, not really." He met her gaze, taking her hand and brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

"I would not expect you to be, Fabala."

"Wouldn't you, Tris?" She raised an eyebrow. "Your brother didn't know his place. I'm glad you do."

"I've always known my place, Fabala. I always will. I accepted long ago what Fiyero couldn't. I have always been happy with my station in life. I've always understood the game, unlike my brother."

She nodded. "Good. I'll need someone by my side who can play the game as well as I can."

He shook his head. "Fabala, I don't want to rule Fliaan. Fliaan is yours, not mine. I'm perfectly happy ruling the Vinkus when the time comes."

She laughed, the pain in her body lessening slightly at his response. "I don't want you by my side as my emperor, Tris. Fliaan belongs to the Thropps and it will _always_ belong to the Thropps; as long as I'm alive to claim it for my family, I will. You will never set foot in Fliaan as an emperor; a king, but not an emperor. But if we're going to play, I need a strong partner who can play as well as I can. I won't take you as my emperor, but I'll take you as my king, as my partner. Just understand that I will never be a lowly queen, as long as I rule Fliaan."

"I would never ask to be anything other than your king, Fabala."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Good. Because I'm not a queen. Not in this game. In this game..." She thought a moment, her mind going back to her mother.

"In this game?" He asked, waiting for her reply. She met his gaze.

"I'm an empress."


	11. Chapter 11

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"Fabala, wait! I can't keep up!"

"Then don't, Glinda."

The blonde grabbed her cousin's arm, forcing her to stop once she got close. "Fabala, what has gotten into you? Is it Trism? What has he done now?"

The young ruler simply stared at her. "Nothing. He just helped me to realize my place in this game." Then, without another word, she turned and hurried down the steps towards the car. The blonde huffed in annoyance before following.

"Wait!" Once the doors closed behind them and the car pulled away from the curb, Glinda turned back to her cousin. "Why are you so insistent on getting to this luncheon anyway? You dreaded the last one-"

"Because I control the game, Glinda."

"I don't understand, Fabala."

They lapsed into silence, for the rest of the ride, and as Elphaba slipped out of the car she turned back. "Every single person sitting at that table today, Glinda, I control. They bow to _me,_ like they bowed to Mama before me. Because I am the most powerful woman in Oz."

* * *

Glinda watched as every single person at the table stood and bowed or curtsied when Elphaba entered ahead of her. She saw how all conversation stopped, and every head turned. Silence passed, as Elphaba's dark eyes drank everyone in; every head was bowed before her, every person there recognized that she was higher than the rest. And amid the men and women, she saw Trism. He lifted his head slightly, winking at her. She lifted her head, and nodded, before moving to take the seat she'd been in weeks before, only to find Arduenna residing in it.

Hazel eyes met hers, and Arduenna's voice was soft when she spoke. "I believe you're seated beside your betrothed, Your Majesty." Elphaba turned her gaze to Trism, who nodded, and pulled out the chair beside him. She smiled softly at him, before moving to take her place beside him. Partra reached out, resting a hand on her granddaughter's before the meal began.

Conversation floated up from different areas of the table, but Elphaba mainly kept silent. She listened, her ears perking up when something interesting was said, but for the majority of the time she was quiet. Occasionally she would share a glance with Trism, who would smirk or roll his eyes at whatever was said. The prince had more of a personality than his brother; how had she not noticed it before?

 _"Fabala. Fabala! There you are. We have been looking for you all day."_

 _The twelve-year-old princess turned from her cousins. The smile instantly faded from her face, and she had the decency to look ashamed. She folded her hands before her, and ducked her head. "I'm sorry, Mama. I was simply with Cousin Avaric and Cousin Nastoya. We were outside, playing."_

 _Melena laid a hand on her shoulder, guiding her into the room where the luncheon was being held. "Yes, well, for once it wasn't Nessa. I guess we should be grateful you are not full angel after all." She whispered, as the rest of the guests stood, until Melena had bid them to return to their seats. She guided her third oldest to her father, and Elphaba looked up at Frex._

 _"I'm sorry I'm late for luncheon, Papa. It will not happen again. Forgive me."_

 _"Forgive you?" Frex glanced at his other children; as the children of the Samraat and his wife, they took the places at the head of the table, with all the other guests seated several down from them, acknowledging that the emperor of Fliaan and his family were the strongest, the most powerful in this tree of royalty. Perhaps it was the only time that the other houses would ever concede strength to Frexpar, but either way, it was honored, however fleeting. He studied each of his other daughters, his son. "What do you think? Shall we forgive Fabala for being late to lunch?"_

 _"Usually it is Nessa, and she is usually late to tea." Sophelia replied, the sixteen-year-old glanced at the others sitting at the table before turning back to her sister. "Fabala will not do it again, Papa. She is not like Nessa."_

 _"No, but when she is with Nessa, Fabala usually gets into trouble." Fourteen-year-old Oziandra spoke up with a giggle; one that was suddenly silenced by a look from her mother. Frex turned back to his daughter._

 _"You are forgiven, Fabala. You may sit." She smiled at her father, taking her seat between her brother and her younger sister._

"Be grateful you did not just see the look Iskinaary just threw you." She turned to Trism, who reached beneath the table and took her hand.

"What look?"

"I'd say it was jealousy, but if looks could kill..." He trailed off, and Elphaba leaned around him, catching the eye of the young woman in question. She snorted softly as she returned to her place.

"Iskinaary has always been upset that she is nothing more than a lowly lady of Mifkets. She knows that she belongs at the far end of the table; she's always been jealous of my sisters and I. I think she's the one cousin I never got along with." She reached out, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip. "When my family and I went to visit Aunt Mulhama and Uncle Gadfry, back when I was six, she pulled my hair and shoved me off the train platform in jealousy. Thank the Unnamed God the trains had stopped running by then. Mama nearly threw a conniption, and it broke into an argument between her and Aunt Mulhama. Iskinaary was told to stay away from me the entire rest of the visit."

"Remind me, Mulhama was Melena's-"

"Older sister." Elphaba finished. "Mama was the youngest of four sisters and four brothers. Mulhama was the second oldest sister and third oldest sibling. Scarly was the oldest, and Gayelette is the second youngest. Her brothers really aren't worth mentioning, because two of them died in childhood, one of them got himself killed in war, and the the one that's left living married his first cousin and their children are..." She cocked her head.

"Ah. There's something wrong with them."

"More wrong than," She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. "the disease that plagued Shell."

He nodded in understanding before returning to the meal. They ate in silence for several minutes, before Sarima spoke up. "How are the plans for the wedding going, Elphaba? Trism?" The pair exchanged a glance. He squeezed her hand gently.

"They're going well, Your Majesty."

"Good." Sarima glanced at her sister-in-law. "I absolutely agree Locasta. Trism is much more suited to Elphaba than your other son would have been. It's also evident that she is a better match than young Nessarose would have been."

The Vinkun queen glanced at children; Elphaba squeezed Trism's hand as she grabbed her wine glass and tried her hardest to keep from gulping it down. She choked when he dug his nails into her palm; the message clear. He was just as hurt by what the older queen said as she was, but they did as they had learned, and dutifully stayed quiet.

* * *

Every other day, there was news about the preparations for the royal wedding; the wedding that would finally unite the houses of Thropp and Tigelaar. He tried his hardest to ignore the papers, but it was impossible, when everywhere he looked, there was talk of his wife and brother. How could that even be allowed? She was still married to him-

 _Unless they already went through with the annulment. And if they went through with the annulment, then there's no way anyone would believe you were married to her. The papers assumed you were her lover, not her husband._ He took a deep breath, trying hard to ignore the pain, but it was getting harder, each day the pain was getting worse. _You deserve this; this is your punishment for walking away._


	12. Chapter 12

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"You may look now, Your Majesty."

Slowly, she turned, though she didn't want to look, she couldn't help herself. The image before her nearly stopped her heart, and she choked on a sob. The dress fell in soft folds to the floor, and she wore her long black hair pinned up. but it was the veil that made her eyes fill with tears. She recognized the veil; it had been Melena's. _But.. but how?_

"Your mother let Gayelette's daughter borrow it for her wedding, remember, Fabala?" She turned as Partra entered with Glinda. "When the revolution hit, Gayelette kept the veil safe. When you were found, she returned it, knowing that it needed to be with her daughter." She turned to Glinda, who held a box in her grasp, and slowly lifted the lid. Elphaba couldn't control the gasp that escaped her as her grandmother lifted a beautiful, diamond and emerald tiara from the box and made her way towards her granddaughter. Elphaba recognized the tiara; it was Mama's favorite, she'd worn it more than any other.

Partra gently rested it atop Elphaba's head, securing the veil. As she adjusted the veil over her shoulders, she sighed. "You have the beauty of your mother, Melena, Empress of All Fliaan. She would be so proud of the woman you have become, Elphaba. And your sisters-"

Tears came to her eyes. " _I miss them so much, Grandmama_."

"I know, my darling." Gently, Partra cradled her face in her hands, brushing the tears away. "They would not want us to live in the past. Not now. They would want us to live for them, because they cannot. They would want you to be happy, to be safe. And they know that Trism can keep you safe."

"I... _I wish they were here."_

Partra pulled her granddaughter into her arms, holding her close. She thought back to the weeks before- the annulment had gone through, and Elphaba and Trism were free to go through with the wedding. It was a great relief from Partra's shoulders, that the young Vinkun prince would take care of his brother's former wife; she knew that when it came down to it, Trism would do his duty, the very thing that Fiyero ran from. The rest of the royal houses- the few that knew about Elphaba's marriage to Fiyero before her return to Fliaan- were relieved that the young empress was able to finally marry someone of 'respectable' standing, who would focus on his duty to his country and his people and not himself. "I know, Fabala, believe me, I know. I wish they were here, too."

A soft knock sounded on the door, and everyone turned. "Who is it?" Glinda called.

"It's just me, Glinda."

The blonde rushed to the door, opening it slightly. "Trism, it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding ceremony!"

He sighed. "I know, Glinda, I just... I want to talk to her. Please."

Moments passed in silence, before Elphaba moved away from her grandmother and past her cousin. She turned her back to the door, reaching through the opening. Trism, seeing her hand, took it in his, bringing it to his lips. She leaned back against the door, resting her head against the ornate wood with a sigh. "You ready for this, Fabala?"

"Are you?" He chuckled softly, squeezing her hand.

"Not in the slightest." They lapsed into silence; Elphaba was completely unaware that Glinda had grabbed a small candybox camera that someone had given Elphaba and Trism as a wedding gift, and quickly snapped a photograph.

"Are we doing the right thing, Tris?" He sighed, considering his words carefully.

"I think we're doing the best we can. We're making the best of a bad situation, Fabala. We can protect each other, take care of each other, play the game." He squeezed her hand. "You're the _strongest_ piece in this chess game, Fabala, remember that. You control the board. I do as you say. I will _always_ do as you say, my queen."

She laced their fingers together, squeezing his hand gently. "Play the game with me, Tris. Don't make me play it alone."

He chuckled, resting his head against the door. "Never. I will never make you play it alone." He shifted onto his side, resting his cheek against the wood with a sigh. "I do love you, Fabala. No matter what, I do love you."

A smile tugged at her lips; it was so nice to hear those words without a secret behind them. She rested her cheek against the door, closing her eyes. "I love you, too, Tris. Despite everything we're going through, I love you, too." A wave of relief washed through her, that she could say such a thing and not fear that something was being kept from her; that he would decide that he didn't want this world, that he would run, or that he was using her for his own selfish reasons. That he would be there when she needed him.

* * *

She took a deep breath, doing her best to ignore the pain in her soul. What kept her head up was the fact that she wasn't the only one suffering from this pain. She looked up, meeting Trism's gaze. He smiled softly at her, taking her hand and slipping the ring onto it before allowing her to do the same. Once done, the priest took the braided cords and wound them around their wrists and both hands, knotting it tightly.

It was custom in Fliaan for couples of all statuses to be handfastened together; each color represented something specific to the Fliaanian people, but for this specific wedding, the colors held a stronger meaning- the emerald green and silver of Fliaan and the sapphire blue and gold of the Vinkus- which symbolized the joining of the two oldest, most respected royal houses in Ozian history. Their union meant the strongest alliance Oz had ever seen, and everyone knew it.

"... you make kiss the bride."

Trism caught her gaze, and after a moment, she nodded, giving him permission. Slowly, he stepped closer, leaning down and capturing her mouth in a soft kiss.

* * *

The celebration lasted long into the night; but it was not long after the bells tolled three times, announcing the ceremony complete, that Elphaba and Trism made their way to the balcony of the palace, to give the people of Fliaan their first glimpse of their young empress, their former missing Kauri, with her husband.

 _"Fabala, stand still."_

 _"But Mama-"_

 _"Hush, darling. It will all be over soon, I promise."_

 _The sisters shared a glance, before turning back to the crowds below them. She reached out, taking Nessa's hand quickly before releasing it and waving. All four girls stood on either side of their parents and brother; Sophelia and Oziandra on the left, she and Nessa on the right, smiling and waving to the people below the balcony they stood upon. By the next week, Frexspar would abdicate, and the family would be under house arrest._

"The last time I stood on this balcony, it was the week before Papa abdicated." She whispered, never releasing Trism's hand. He held her close, meeting her gaze.

"I'm so sorry, Fabala." She gave him a tiny smile.

"Yes, well, we have an audience to greet. Shall we?" He nodded, allowing her to lead him out onto the balcony. Amid cheers of excitement, Elphaba and Trism did as they were supposed to, they smiled and waved, before he turned to her.

"Let's give them a show." She furrowed a brow.

"A show? What were you thinking?"

He leaned close, whispering softly in her ear; he knew that someone, somewhere in that giant crowd of people, was capturing images of them with a camera. He also knew that for all of Fliaan's faults, the people loved Elphaba; they had loved the royal family, and that it had been a select few that had decided to and carried out the slaughter. For all Frexspar and Melena's mistakes, they had cared deeply about the people, and had received that love tenfold in return. Their children had been Fliaan's children; the girls were often referred to as _Fliaan's_ Grand _Kauri_ , so great was the peoples' love for the family. And when Elphaba had been found, the people had rejoiced; to have one of their children survive...

She nodded after a moment. "Let's."

Then, without another word, she rose up on her toes, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She melted into the kiss, reaching up to cradle his face in her hand as he rested his other hand against her hip. They could hear the crowd below going wild, enjoying the sight of their young empress locked in an embrace with her new husband. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead to hers, taking a moment to catch his breath. "You're full of surprises, you know that, Fabala."

She giggled, shaking her head. "I was not angelic all the time, Tris." She replied, turning and waving to the crowd.

* * *

"I think it's wonderful, that you'll be spending time in the Vinkus with Trism for your honeymoon, Fabala." Glinda said, wrapping her cousin in a hug. "Trism really cares for you."

"I know he does, Glinda." She replied, pulling away and glancing over her shoulder. "He understands the pain I'm going through, and is doing his best to help me through it, despite his own pain for Nessa. He has already proven in more ways than one that he is a thousand times more the man than Fiyero ever was." Glinda pressed a finger to her cousin's lips.

"That name is _not_ to pass your lips for the next week, Fabala. It's your honeymoon. Enjoy it."

The young empress nodded, wrapping her cousin in a hug again before pulling away and joining her spouse. She accepted the arm Trism held out, and allowed him to help her into the car before joining her. Once they were on their way, he turned to her. "If you would rather go somewhere else, Fabala, just say the word."

She met his gaze. "Hush, Tris. I can't wait. I was a mere child the last time I visited the Vinkus; I would love to see how it's changed since then."

He nodded, settling back against the seat, before asking,

"Fabala?"

She turned from staring out the window. "Hmm?"

"Have you ever been to Rigmarole?" She shook her head. "It's this... beautiful little town in the north half of the Vinkus. My family owns a hunting lodge up there; it's quiet and peaceful, and the lodge is far enough away from the town that we can have privacy if we want it. There is a also a beautiful lake on the property, so if you would like to go swimming-"

She reached over, laying a finger over his lips, realizing that he was rambling. "I would love to, Tris." She whispered, kissing his softly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

 _"I've loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you."_

 _She couldn't hear him; she couldn't hear anything, out cold was she. He adjusted his hold on her, being careful not to drop her, though he needn't have worried; she was so thin, but the coat gave her a weight she didn't possess. He stopped, studying her face; her features were peaceful. She appeared to be asleep, if you ignored the gash on the side of her head. After a moment, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I would never have taken the crown, but I would have married you. If you'd only been willing to forgo duty."_

His eyes snapped open, and he sat up, checking the time. Newspapers lay scattered by the bed; he'd been un-acceptingly following the wedding plans from the day Nastoya had shown up at his door. The images of his brother and his former wife were splashed across every newspaper; he couldn't escape it. He had a feeling it was partial punishment for what he'd done to Elphaba, and he didn't fault it if it was. But that didn't change the fact that the annulment of his marriage and subsequent wedding of his brother and former wife just about killed him. They were doing their duty, he knew. They were nothing but pawns in a much larger game, and honestly, Fiyero was glad he'd gotten out when he had the chance. Yes, despite the pain his soul was in, he was _definitely_ glad he'd escaped the political parlor games of the royal courts when he had.

* * *

Laughter filled the air, and Trism found himself falling silent. They sat across from each other at the dining table in the hunting lodge, all sorts of pastries laid out before them; gifts from the bakers in the village on the occasion of their marriage. They had fixed coffee, and had gotten into some conversation that he didn't remember, but what had made Elphaba laugh was the fact that when he'd taken a bite of a powder-covered pastry, the powder had exploded everywhere, making it look like he was wearing a mask.

Her laughter had startled him, and in retaliation, he'd thrown a strawberry tart at her. It hit her square in the face, stopping her laughter. As she'd wiped the custard off her face, a glint of mischief had sparked in her eyes, and he'd soon found himself on the receiving end of vanilla frosting and a chocolate cupcake. A fight soon ensued, and the young royal couple soon chased each other through the dining room, throwing all assortment of desserts at each other.

"Got you!" She looked around, only to find herself cornered by one of the windows in the sitting area; the fireplace crackled, heating the room. She tried hard to keep from laughing, but the sight of blueberry filling covering his face was hard to ignore. A moment passed, before Trism's stern act broke, and he found himself laughing right along with her. He pulled her close and she giggled.

"You look ridiculous, Tris."

"So do you, Fabala." He replied, reaching up to wipe cream from her hair. "I must say though, whipping cream looks good on you." He licked a bit off his fingers. "Tastes pretty good, too." She raised an eyebrow, reaching up and swiping her fingers through the cream he didn't get. A glimmer of something flickered in her eyes, and she smiled.

"Have a little more, then, Tris." She replied, wiping the cream across his features, and he started. It was enough of a distraction that she was able to slip out of his arms, and only to be caught around the waist from behind as she dashed across the room. As she started to turn in his arms, they stumbled, landing on the ground, the wind knocked out of both of them. She swallowed, meeting his gaze, resting her hands on his chest.

"Well," He started, clearing his throat.

She nodded. "Well."

Eyes locked, they fell silent, unsure of what to say or how to act. After a moment, Trism rose to stand, as Elphaba lifted her head, as though to kiss him. He froze, not wanting to take advantage of her, but also wanting to kiss her- softly, but still, kiss her. He bit his lip, weighing his options. They were married, this was their honeymoon...

Making up his mind, he leaned down, meeting her in the middle. Their lips met in a soft kiss; he pulled way, studying her features. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled softly at him, reaching up to cradle his cheek. A giggle escaped her throat, and she swiped the cream off his nose as he closed his eyes and winced. When he opened his eyes again, she was sucking the cream off her fingers. "It's really not that bad. My compliments to the baker."

He laughed, shaking his head before climbing to his feet and helping her up. He glanced over her shoulder. "Well, I'd say we made quite a mess." She turned, sighing.

"We did, didn't we?" He released her, making his way to the table.

"What do you say we clean this up and then get some sleep?" She joined him, sliding an arm around his waist from behind.

"Do we have to sleep, Tris?" He turned to her. "It is our honeymoon." He now turned fully in her arms, resting a hand on the back of a chair and reaching out to brush a strand off her forehead.

"I thought we agreed. The marriage is fake."

"Even a fake marriage has its rewards." She whispered, meeting his gaze.

"Are you sure? Because the last thing I want to do is take advantage-" He replied, pulling away.

"Your brother already did that, Tris." He stopped. "Yes, I asked to consummate our marriage, and he waited until I was ready, but... but just because I was ready physically, didn't mean I was ready emotionally or mentally."

"And you are now?"

"I learned from my mistakes. Marrying a man because he says he can find your family does make a marriage. And after everything he's done..." She sighed. "Tris, that annulment form I signed wasn't fake. It was real." He turned to her, surprised to say the least.

"But you-"

"I've had time to think. Lots of time. He used me. Granted, he found my family, but he still used me for his own selfish means. I don't want to be tied to a man that does that. He cared more for his own life than anyone else's or even mine. I... I threw myself off the Ozma Pastorious Bridge after finding out what he'd done, how he'd lied, and he still didn't care. He didn't come looking for me. He didn't come searching to make sure I was all right. He basically left me to drown. I _still_ don't know I managed to get out of that river, but I did." She reached out, laying a hand over his; oh how he wanted to punch something, namely his brother.

"You attempted suicide, and he didn't care?" He whispered, and she nodded. Before she could say anything, he lashed out, sending the coffee mugs crashing to the floor as she pulled back.

"Damn him to hell!" He snapped, leaning on the table.

"Tris? Trism?"

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his temper in check, when all he really wanted to do was hunt his brother down. That he could leave Elphaba to fend for herself- in the river, no less- just showed exactly what kind of a _coward_ he was. He straightened, turning and going to her, taking her into his arms. "Fabala, look at me. _Look at me_." She slowly lifted her gaze. "I'm so sorry you went through that. I will _never_ , as long as I live, treat you the way he did. I will never leave you alone to _contemplate suicide_. You understand me? _Fabala?_ " She nodded, as he pulled her to him. "You mean so much to so many people; I _swear_ , I'll never let you go through that alone."

She buried her face in his chest, letting herself relax in the warmth of his body. She didn't notice the slight lessening of the pain in her soul.


	14. Chapter 14

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

Before either knew it, they were locked in a deep kiss.

Gently, he scooped her into his arms, and carried her into the bedroom, depositing her gently on the bed. She reached up, working on the buttons of his shirt before removing it and tossing it aside. He helped her to her feet, moving behind her and untying the back of the dress she'd changed into after the reception, allowing the light fabric to hang, exposing her back. His fingers were soft as they gently pushed the dress off her shoulders; her breath caught as he slid his hands down her body, pushing the dress off her hips before it pooled at her feet. He then removed the bobby pins that held her hair in place; the curls cascaded down her back in a waterfall of raven rose-scented silk. The scent filled his nose, and he understood why people had been obsessed with the Thropp girls' hair when they were younger; softer than the softest of silk, it hung just past her waist. He remembered Melena had never allowed the girls to cut their hair unless they were sick and they had to...

She moaned softly, tilting her head to the side, exposing her throat. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, brushing a soft kiss to her neck. Eyes closed in pleasure, she reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair as he continued kissing her neck. She turned, capturing his lips in hers, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. He lifted her up; her legs wrapped around his waist, and he gently set her back on the bed, moving down to kiss the exposed skin before slowly working on removing her undergarments, as she herself worked on removing his clothes.

The coolness of the air chilled her skin and sent goose flesh rising, which he proceeded to kiss away. The warmth from the fireplace in the main area of the lodge was slowly making its way to the bedroom, not that they would need it. Eventually, they would generate their own heat.

As he rolled her stockings down her legs, she watched with desire in her dark eyes, and after he was done, she pulled him back to her, capturing him in a kiss. Both now entirely nude, she slid her hands down his chest and over his hips, meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry, Tris."

"For what?"

She sighed, licking her lips. "For not being a... a virgin."

He rested his forehead to hers. "It's okay, Fabala. It doesn't bother me any."

"It doesn't?"

He shook his head. "It's not your fault you got taken for. You consummated your marriage; that's normal. I'm just sorry you weren't ready mentally."

She brushed a hand against his cheek. "I'm ready now." He met her gaze.

"You're sure?"

She nodded, smiling softly. "Absolutely."

The kisses were soft at first; he trailed his hands down her body, admiring her curves as he did so, how her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the window above the bed. The diamonds on the outer sides of her eyes sparked in the light, like real emeralds, and he leaned down, kissing each one softly. Her hands moved up his back, tracing over the sapphire diamonds that swirled from one shoulder, down the middle of his back to the front of his hip. Each tattoo design was different, depending on the member of the royal family; while his brother's had been in the center of his chest, Trism's clearly swirled in a pattern similar to a tornado across his body. They were unexpected, because they started on his back and weren't seen at first, but so, so beautiful.

He gently parted her legs, trailing his hands over her thighs before doing so. "You're sure about this, Fabala? Just because I'm now your husband doesn't mean I'm-"

She sat up, sliding a hand along the back of his neck. "Tris, I'm your wife." She kissed him before pressing her body against his. He choked on a gasp as they brushed together. "I'm also your empress. Think of it this way: we consummate our marriage and the questions-"

"Of whether or not our duties in the bedroom are being fulfilled don't even surface." He finished, remembering how his older cousins were always asked if the 'duties in the bedroom' were being taken seriously during major family dinners. He hated the fact that the houses were worried about whether or not a couple was doing well in the marriage bed, and so decided that once he became king, that rule would be abolished- at least in the Vinkus. He couldn't speak for the rest of Oz, but clearly Elphaba felt the same.

She nodded. "Besides, we'll get be more..."

"Well acquainted?" He offered, and she grinned. They were clearly on the same page. "Only if you want to, my queen."

She pulled him down to her, meeting his gaze before kissing him deeply. "I want to, my king. I want to, so much." He broke the kiss, studying her features in silence for several minutes. She grabbed the hand he used to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. "Show me what it's like to really be loved, Tris."

He kissed her softly, before pulling away and settling himself between her legs. "You're sure?" He asked, returning to kiss her.

She nodded, drinking him in. "I'm absolutely sure." She gasped softly as he entered her; the sensation was familiar and yet unfamiliar enough that she cried out in surprise.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my darling-"

But she pressed a finger to his lips, stopping his apologies with a shake of her head. "Shh. Hush, my love. You didn't hurt me; just startled me is all. It's been... a while, since I've felt complete like this. You simply startled me, you didn't hurt me. I promise."

She reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair as he rested his forehead to hers. They lay together for several minutes, getting used to being together and drawing from each other's strength. With a soft kiss, he pushed into her; they soon found a rhythm that was perfect, and Elphaba let herself give in to the pleasure growing in her belly with each thrust. She arched her back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as the rhythm got steadier, began to grow faster. _"Mmm... Tris... deeper..."_

He did as she asked, capturing her mouth in a kiss as she dug her nails into the skin of his back. _"Oh, Fabala..."_ He kissed the soft swells of her breasts, before moving to trail kisses along her throat to her mouth.

 _"Tris... harder... please..."_

 _"Fabala..."_

 _"I need all of you... I love you, Trism!"_

 _"Oh, Elphaba... I love you!"_

* * *

He brushed a kiss to her forehead, only pulling away from her long enough to do so. She lifted heavy-lidded eyes to meet his, a relaxed smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. With the contented hum of orgasm coursing through both their bodies, it was only a matter of time before sleep claimed them both. She rested a hand on his chest, sighing. He nudged his nose against hers. "I love you."

She smiled softly, mouthing it to him in return, too relaxed to gather up the strength to use her vocal chords. He chuckled softly, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. He sighed, and she giggled silently, brushing her fingers against his cheek, the meaning clear. _You're exhausted, my king._

"That's because you wear me out, my queen." He whispered, kissing her softly. "But don't worry, keeping up with you is going to be half the fun." She raised an eyebrow. "Seeing if you can keep up with me is going to be other half." She rolled her eyes, kissing him soundly.


	15. Chapter 15

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

He awoke to the feel of something tickling his nose. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he found a strand of raven hair hanging in his face, and blew it out of the way, causing the occupant of the hair to giggle. He found Elphaba watching him, head propped on her elbow. "Morning."

"Already?" He asked, stretching, and she bit her lip, at the sight of the muscles in his body rippling. She nodded slowly. "That's too bad."

"Why is that bad?"

He shifted onto his side, mirroring her pose. "Because I had the most wonderful dream."

"Oh really?"

He nodded. "Mhmm. I was making love to the most beautiful woman in all of Oz." The blush that covered her pale cheeks was evident that he'd hit his mark, exactly as he'd hoped. "In fact, she looked a lot like you, Fabala. The only difference was that her skin was glistening, and I could taste the orgasm on her lips." She dropped the strand of hair, reaching for him.

"Stop teasing me, Tris."

"And do what?" He challenged, and she met his gaze, catching the glimmer in his eyes.

"And turn me back into that woman I was last night." She replied, grabbing the blankets from the end of the bed and pulling them over their heads with a squeal as he pushed her into the bed.

* * *

She snuggled close to him in the backseat of the car, resting her head on his shoulder. He took her hand, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, Tris. This past week was lovely. I wish it didn't have to end so soon."

He sighed, resting his lips against her hair. "I know, Fabala. But the lodge is there; it belongs to my family. We can use it whenever we like."

She snuggled closer. "That's nice." They sat in silence for several minutes, before she lifted her head. "What do we do now?"

He shrugged, sitting up and pulling her closer. "We make the best of our situation, and we play the game. Partners, remember?" She nodded, smiling softly.

"Partners." She replied with a kiss. Eventually, they pulled up in front of Elphaba's apartment; she refused to live in the palace, the memories of her family were too painful, besides, she was content in her apartment. The voices of reporters reached their ears, and the couple shared a look. Trism made sure he had secure hold of her hand before pushing the door open.

"Ready?"

"Do I have a choice?" He shook his head sadly and climbed out of the car, helping her out after him.

* * *

Once the couple was safely behind the doors of Elphaba's apartment, they let themselves breathe. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close and resting his forehead to hers with a chuckle. She giggled, reaching up and cradling his face in her hands. They relished the quiet, content to be in each others' presence; they didn't hear Chattery enter until she cried out in shock. The pair broke apart, turning to her.

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty, I... I did not receive word that you and Master Tigelaar would be returning so soon. I was told that you would be off on your honeymoon for two weeks." Elphaba glanced at Trism, who blushed.

"We would have been, but we figured that a week was plenty, and we have things we need to attend to." The maid nodded.

"May I get you anything, Your Majesty?" Elphaba turned to Trism, who shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Coffee, if that's all right, Chattery. Thank you." The maid nodded, disappearing to do as asked. Once she was gone, Elphaba unbuttoned her coat; he helped her slip out of it of which she was grateful. "Thank you, my love." After hanging it on the coat rack, he removed his and added it before joining her on the sofa. A fire crackled in the grate, and she snuggled close, gaze going to the fire. "What do we do now? Your home is in the Vinkus, and mine is here. Tris, how do we make this marriage work?"

He pressed a kiss to her head. "I'm not sure. I know at some point, I'll have to rule, but that's a long way off, if we're lucky. I know traditionally that the bride moved to her husband's country, but I could never ask you to leave Fliaan. I don't want you to, you belong here."

"Could you move here?" She asked, lifting her head and meeting his gaze. "This apartment is big enough for two, Trism."

"But would you really want me here, Fabala? This is your personal space, after all."

"You're my husband." He raised an eyebrow. "What? You are?" He stood, going to the window and letting his gaze wander.

"Be that as it may, Fabala, I'm not going to impose in a country I don't belong in." She sighed, opening her mouth to speak when Chattery returned with the coffee. Once the maid was gone, she picked up a mug. "I'm serious, Elphaba. I don't belong in Fliaan, just as you don't belong in the Vinkus. We both have our own countries to rule; the fact that they share a border makes it that much harder to decide what to do."

"I know, Trism." She whispered, as he returned to her. She watched as he sipped his coffee, before, "What about children? What do you suggest we do when we decide to try to have a baby? Or... when we consider having a baby." She amended as he choked. "We're going to need an heir, Tris."

"I'm... I'm well aware of that, Fabala." He replied, setting his cup down and wiping his mouth on the edge of a napkin. He took a deep breath. "I know we'll need an heir," He clarified, tone calmer than it was before. "But let's cross that bridge when we come to it. We've only been married a little over a week. Let us enjoy our first year of marriage before we begin creating children." She nodded.

"But... but what will we do if... if we have a son, and-" She stopped, and he knew that her mind was going to Shell, and the pain he'd endured because of the disease.

Trism pulled her close. "Shh, hush, Fabala. We'll figure out what to do when that happens. But it's not happening now. We have time."

* * *

 _"I'm going to marry her some day."_

 _The boy turned to his younger brother. "Marry who?"_

 _"Her." The child nodded towards the youngest princess, who was splashing around in the water with her older sisters; the skirts of their dresses were getting soaked, not that any of them seemed to care._

 _"Nessarose?" The boy nodded._

 _"You're going to marry Elphaba. And I'll marry Nessarose. It'll be perfect."_

Fiyero sighed, tossing the newspaper aside. That had worked real well. Instead of marrying the sisters, they'd ended up marrying the same girl. At different points in her life, but still. He hissed, trying his hardest to ignore the pain in his soul, but it was getting harder too with each passing day.

* * *

"I want a home."

Blue eyes shifted from the newspaper they'd been looking through. They had decided that since Trism was still technically the prince, he wasn't needed in the Vinkus as much as he would be when he was king, and so spent most of his time in Fliaan with Elphaba. The apartment was cozy when it was just the two of them, but there was something that was bothering her, and she couldn't figure out what. "Ah... I'm sorry?"

She set her coffee cup down on the table and sat back in the chair across from him. "I want a home, Trism. I spent my childhood growing up in the Winter Palace. I know that you spent yours in Kiamo Ko. Papa had a small palace built for Mama when they got married that never got used. From everything I've been able to find, it went into family trust when the revolution hit, so _technically_ it belongs to Grandmama, but in actuality, it should go to me. I want to live there."

He closed the newspaper and folded it, setting it to the side. "What... what's brought this on, Fabala?" She wrapped an arm around her waist. "Are you-"

"No, no, Tris. I'm not. I just..." She shrugged. "I went ten years without a home. I lost my family, my country, my very name. I married a prince-turned-con-artist who left as soon as things started going south... I found my grandmother and returned to become empress of my home country... I married my little sister's soulmate in a sham marriage that is... is very _quickly_ becoming real..." She sniffled, and he blushed.

"And... and I guess... I guess I've just... realized that... that I want a home. The only home I'd ever known as a child became prison... I want a home of my own; one that's specifically mine. Papa may have had the palace built for Mama, but _I'm_ their daughter. It belongs to me now. I want to make it my home. I..." She swallowed thickly, reaching across the table. "I want to make it _our_ home. The place we can go when we want to get away; the place we can raise our... our children... a place that's strictly ours."

He glanced at her hand, before reaching out and taking it. "I think that's a _wonderful_ idea, Fabala."

She got up, going to him. "Oh thank you, Tris." She kissed him quickly, before burying her face in his shoulder. He held his wife close, before asking,

"So, what is the name of this palace?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

" _That's_ the palace?"

Glinda turned to stare at her cousin, as Trism helped his wife out of the car. Two months had passed since the wedding had taken place; two months of getting used to married life and life at court, for both of them. The pain both felt deep in their souls had slowly started to lessen, but not enough that either would notice.

A smile tugged at Elphaba's lips, and she nodded. "That's the palace Papa had built for Mama." She moved away from Trism. She had only been here once; but it had stuck in her mind for years afterwards.

 _"Fabala, wait!"_

But she ignored them, taking off running.

 _"Wait for me!"_

 _"It's so big!"_

 _"Mama, can we live here? Please?"_

 _"That's enough girls. Girls! Come here now, all of you." The three oldest princesses reluctantly returned to their mother's side. Nessa, still a toddler at merely two, clung tight to Melena's hand; her other rested against the slight swell of her abdomen, for she was pregnant with her fifth child. "We can't stay here, girls. We live at the Winter Palace, remember?"_

 _Elphaba turned back, drinking it in. "Why can't we live here, Mama?"_

 _Melena sighed. "Because the court dictates that we live at the palace. It is a very lovely palace though, my,"_

" _Colwen Grounds._ " Elphaba breathed, skidding to a stop; she felt Trism and Glinda join her minutes later. The palace rose up before them, a beautiful three-story building crafted out of marble and stone. The beautiful marble columns at the front were reminiscent of ancient Fliaan temples, and the iron gate kept the palace protected. During the revolution, Colwen Grounds had gone untouched, because no one realized that it belonged to the royal family; every assumed it was an old abandoned mansion from the days of the Great Fliaanian Civil war of the eighteen-fifties.

"What?" Trism asked, catching his breath.

"Mama called it Colwen Grounds, after the mansion in her favorite novel, _Oziandra Tippetarius_. Rainia was named after the title character." She barely noticed Trism lay a hand on her shoulder, but when she did, she reached up, covering his hand with hers. "I always wanted to live here."

"And it's... completely untouched?" Trism asked, glancing at Glinda, who shrugged. Elphaba nodded.

"Mama never even got the chance to decorate it. We were forced to live at the Winter Palace, which crushed Mama. She hated living at the Winter Palace. It was too stifling. She wanted so badly to live here, and never got the chance." After a moment, she turned, taking both Trism and Glinda's hands. "Come on! Come see the inside! It's not furnished, but you'll see exactly how big it _really_ is."

They followed her, through the iron gates, across the courtyard, up the steps and past the columns, and into the palace. As soon as they stepped inside, both Trism and Glinda gasped; Elphaba had been right. The entrance way alone was big enough to hold the entire court of Fliaan, with high vaulted ceilings and high windows. Not a scrap of furniture was to be found, but it didn't matter, because Elphaba prattled on about what she wanted to do with the palace, as she led them from room to room, through the huge kitchen, into the sitting room with the fireplace on the far wall, past the study with its built-in bookcases and up the stairs to the second floor.

The second floor contained what would be the main rooms for the family- master bed and bath, multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, what could be a playroom, and a classroom as well as a personal study. On the third floor, were the servants quarters, as big and open as the rest of the palace, but Elphaba didn't go up the extra floor. Instead, she led them down a hallway, towards a small room tucked away in a corner of the hallway. Silent, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

It was a beautiful room, with a reading nook and an adjoining sitting area. It was here that she turned on her heel, tucking her arms behind her back as she met her husband's gaze. He waited, giving her time to gather her thoughts and speak before speaking himself. But she kept quiet. He shrugged, crossing his arms. "It's a beautiful palace, Fabala, but do you really think it's the right fit for us? What will the court think if they discover their empress is living in a small palace tucked away in the Fliaanian countryside?"

She lifted her chin. "I'm the queen; I control this game, Trism, you've told me so _repeatedly_."

"I know you do, darling. I'm not disputing that. I'm just asking if you understand that the court is going to think you've lost your mind if we move out here."

"I understand that, Tris. But... I didn't just bring you out here so you could tell me how pretty my mother's unfurnished palace is. I want to move out here, permanently. I've already talked to the architects, and they can have what needs to be fixed taken care of as soon as possible."

Trism furrowed a brow, sharing a glance with Glinda. "Why 'as soon as possible'? What's so urgent that you want this place fixed up immediately?" He moved closer, unfolding his arms as his wife fidgeted. "Fabala? Fabala, look at me. What are you hiding?"

She shrugged, looking around the room. "I was just... hopingthiscouldbethenursery."

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't hear that. Or... I don't _think_ I heard that correctly. Did you say 'nursery'?" Glinda's eyes widened, and she slapped a hand over her mouth, but it did nothing to stop the squeal that managed to escape. Slowly, his wife nodded. "A... a nursery. As in... a... a nursery for... for a... a baby?" His wife nodded faster. "Ah... I..." He suddenly went lightheaded; there was no way he'd heard his wife correctly. The entire room was spinning; the floor was very sharply and quickly coming up to meet him, and he reached out to get his bearings.

 _"Trism!"_

 _"Tris... Trism!"_

The two women grabbed onto his arms, but he stumbled. Eventually, he managed to find purchase against the far wall, and slid down it, keeping his eyes closed as he let the world stop spinning and his breathing and heart rate returned to normal. Slowly, Elphaba knelt next to him, concerned. "Tris, darling? I'm so sorry. If I'd known you were going to react this badly to the news, I wouldn't have told you."

He opened his eyes, meeting his wife's gaze. Without a word, he threw his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. "You have nothing to apologize for, Fabala. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, you just... you knocked me for a loop. Saying you want to move into a palace and then saying that you want this room to be the nursery for our baby..."

"Are you angry?" She asked, pulling way, teeth sliding out to worry her lower lip.

"For the Unnamed God, sweetheart, no! Where would you get that idea?" He stopped. "Oh. Right." He waved it away, taking her face in his hands. "We're having a _baby_. Oh, Fabala. I... I don't..."

Glinda giggled. "I think you knocked him speechless, Fabala."

The young empress blushed, reaching up to cover his hand with hers. "Are you happy, Tris?"

He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. "Exceedingly, my love."

They lapsed into silence, before Elphaba broached the one subject she feared most. "Um... what... what if... what if he's... he's born like... like..."

"Shh, Fabala. We'll focus on that when we get to it." He pulled her close. "You've just told me that we're going to be parents. Let's focus on that before we start worrying about diseases, my darling." He reached down, laying a hand against her abdomen. "Let our baby grow first before you start worrying." She reached down, covering his hand with hers, but the worry was still etched in her dark eyes. A moment passed, before he pressed his forehead to hers. "We're having a _baby_." She nodded. He looked around with a sigh. "You know, Fabala, I think you might be right."

She cocked her head to the side, the question clear. _How?_

"I think this little palace might just be the perfect size for us. We can have our privacy away from court, it's big enough to entertain guests, and..." He looked around the room. "And this is the perfect room for a nursery."

"Really?" He nodded. She let out a squeal, throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, Trism! Darling, thank you!"

He held her close, burying his face in her hair. "Thank you, Fabala. You've made me the luckiest man in the world."


	17. Chapter 17

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"I'm glad things are going well between you both." Partra said, as Chattery handed her a cup of coffee. She thanked the maid softly, before turning to her granddaughter. "But is there another reason you asked me to come by?"

Elphaba glanced at Trism, who smiled softly and took her hand, squeezing gently. She squeezed back, before reaching out and picking up her cup to take a sip. "Actually, Grandmama, there is something I wanted to get your opinion on."

Partra raised an eyebrow.

"You know the small palace that Papa had built for Mama after they were married?" The dowager nodded. "And how it never got used because we lived at court?" Another nod. "Well," She glanced at Trism, who nodded, squeezing her hand, giving her his strength. "I want to use it." The declaration startled the dowager, but her granddaughter plowed on. "I know that it is in the family trust, but technically, since I'm the last remaining member of the family, Colwen Grounds should go to me. It belongs to me. And... Trism and I... it'll make a wonderful home for us, when Tris isn't required to be in the Vinkus, and we won't have to live at court. I don't want to live at court and this apartment is lovely, but it's far too small; certainly too small for a family, and Colwen Grounds is just the right size for Trism and I; I showed him it a couple days ago, and... oh Grandmama, please say yes. It would be wonderful for Trism and I to have a place to call our own when we want to get away from court or the pressures of ruling, and..."

He squeezed her hand. _You can do this, Fabala. I'm right here. I won't let you fall._

She took a deep breath. "And it's the perfect place for us, especially with the baby on the way; I don't want our baby to grow up at court, not like my siblings and I did. I want them to have a normal childhood, as normal as possible, and Colwen Grounds will do that for us. Please, Grandmama, say yes." Elphaba turned to Glinda, who shrugged, silent, before turning back to Partra. "Grandmama? Please, say _something_."

"A... a baby?" Elphaba nodded, as Partra's gaze went from Trism to her granddaughter and back. "You're having a baby?"

"We are, Your Majesty." Trism replied, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close, resting a hand over her abdomen. Elphaba covered his hand with hers, and Partra felt as though she were looking at Frexpar and Melena, when they had announced they were having Sophelia.

 _"Mother, we're having a baby. Come August, we'll have a little prince or princess to chase after."_

"Grandmama?" The image faded, and she was instead facing her granddaughter and grandson-in-law. Elphaba bit her lip, worried. After a moment, Partra set her cup down and got up, going to them. She held out her hands, helping Elphaba stand when the girl took them. Once she was on her feet, Partra wrapped her in her arms.

"Oh, Fabala, my darling, Fabala." She pulled away, taking the young empress's face in her hands. "You will be a wonderful mother. Congratulations, my darling." She pressed a kiss to her forehead, before turning to Trism, who stood and allowed the dowager to embrace him. She took their hands, watching as Elphaba covered her abdomen protectively. "When?"

The two shared a glance.

"Between late next April or early May."

* * *

As Elphaba had asked, work to restore what needed restoring at Colwen Grounds started immediately. In between meetings with Parliament and the rulers of other houses, she worked on decorating the palace to exactly what she wanted; no detail was too small for the young empress, no room left forgotten, no decoration not contemplated. She and Trism spent nights pouring over blueprints and detailed drawings; she was surprised to discover that her husband was a talented artist, and he often got her specifications down on paper properly the first time.

They had decided that the study on the first floor was big enough for them both to use it, and that her boudoir would be part of her private suite, off of the master bedroom on the second floor, for when she needed time away from her family. Glinda helped with the planning, seeing as she remembered a lot during her visits t to the Winter Palace as a child, especially in regards to Melena's famous Rose Room as the family called it. Similar to her mother's Rose Boudoir in the Winter Palace, Elphaba's would be based on a color- Cerulean.

"Why cerulean, Fabala?"

"I like it, it's a lovely color."

"It's blue."

"No, my darling, it's _cerulean_. It's a lighter shade of blue."

"I'm sorry, my love, but _blue is blue_."

"What about the diamonds on your back? Are those just blue?"

"Yes."

"No, they're a darker _shade_ of blue; they're a sapphire. Just like this cerulean. It's just a lighter shade of the same color, just like your diamonds."

"It's blue, Fabala! Blue is blue, no matter the shade!"

"So I guess your eyes are 'just blue', then."

"They're a darker blue."

"How is that blue different to mine?"

"It just-"

"Trism, don't argue with her. You aren't going to win."

"But-"

"You want to live to see the birth of your child? Let her call it what she wants."

The young prince sighed, but conceded, knowing that the blonde was right. He shook his head, watching silently as his wife selected draperies, furniture, carpeting, all in the same blue shade. The furniture would be of the finest Vinkun oak, and the wall paneling would be of the same dark wood; the contrast in colors would give it a very warm, relaxing feel, which is what Elphaba was going for. A fireplace would reside in the far corner, and the high windows would open to a small balcony.

Once everything was to Elphaba's specifications, they turned their attention to the nursery. Though she knew the few things she wanted, she wanted Trism's input- something that for centuries was never sought; a child's nursery was seen as _strictly_ being the mother's doing, but Elphaba was quickly proving to everyone that she was not going to be one for following tradition. "This is your baby, too, Tris. You will have just as much say in his upbringing as I will."

Her husband sighed, shifting to rest his hands on the back of the chair he was sitting on, resting his chin on his hands. He studied his wife in silence for several minutes, before reaching out to brush a hand over her abdomen; she reached down, covering his hand with hers and stroking the back of his hand. The fact that their child was growing inside her, forming, becoming a tiny human being that they would one day teach to walk and read, ride horses and draw, still amazed him. Young he was, but Trism was wise beyond his twenty-three years, and often found himself on the receiving end of startled looks or shocked whispers when he realized or understood something others didn't.

As the second-born son, Trism had been seen as the spare; _Fiyero_ would inherit the crown, _Fiyero_ would marry the Fliaanian Kauri when he came of age, _Fiyero_ would become the next Vinkun king after their father. _Fiyero, Fiyero, Fiyero_ , it had _always_ been about Fiyero. Yes, Trism had _adored_ his brother when they were children, but he'd always known that he would forever live in his brother's shadow. Though Trism had always wondered what it would be like to be in his brother's place, he'd _never_ expected anything more than a marriage to a lowly countess or princess of a lower country. But now...

Now he was married to the most powerful woman in Oz; he was set to inherit the Vinkun throne thanks to his brother having run off and gotten into the mess he'd gotten into; and he and his wife were expecting a baby... things were falling into place way too quickly; so quickly, they were making his head spin. But the one constant was Elphaba; she kept him grounded, she reminded him that he was no longer in his brother's shadow, and that he was his own man, and he would be his own ruler, different than his father, just as she would be a different ruler to that of her parents. Elphaba helped make him realize that he was destined to carve his own path, and that he had the mindset and personality to become a great ruler.

"Jade."

Elphaba looked up from the list she was reading through. "I'm sorry, darling?"

"Jade."

She furrowed a brow. "What about it?"

"The nursery should be decorated in jade. Jade and Fliaanian cherrywood." He replied softly, resting his cheek against his hand. "So that when the baby gets fussy, the colors will help to calm him, calm us." She set her list on the table beside the blueprints and drawings he'd done, and then leaned down, pressing a kiss to his head.

"That sounds wonderful."

* * *

By the third month of Elphaba's pregnancy, Colwen Grounds was fixed up and ready for the young couple to move in and make their home. Though there were questions surrounding why the young empress wanted to live in a small, crumbling palace, tucked away in the countryside, instead of at the Winter Palace with the rest of court, no one dared ask.

Rumors and jealous gossip swirled among those at court, rumors that Elphaba never heard because they were shut down almost immediately. Trism kept close watch on everything when it came to his wife, and many learned the hard way not to cross the young Vinkun prince who claimed their empress as his future queen. As her pregnancy progressed, Trism took to sitting in on Parliament meetings with his wife; he kept a close eye on her, and if it appeared that she was starting to tire, he often took over, playing consort for her, to which she was grateful. It got to be a common sight; the young prince sitting beside his wife, going over every bill or suggestion carefully over her shoulder, explaining something that was worded strangely or double checking that what had been originally suggested was still there and not removed by illicit means. He, like his wife, took meticulous notes on every bill or proposal brought forth, and they often spent several minutes conversing quietly, weighing the pros and cons before consulting with Parliament.

As Elphaba entered the first month of her second trimester, Trism became more protective of his wife. He knew what upset her, and tried his hardest to keep her stress levels down as much as possible. But he couldn't stop everything, no matter how he tried, and he would learn that the hard way.


	18. Chapter 18

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

He brushed his fingers over the soft swell of her belly; the material of her dress was soft against his fingers, and it strained lightly against her abdomen. The small swell was the first outward sign that the young Fliaanian empress was with child. The news had surprised many of the others in the royal houses, but they'd all soon congratulated the young couple. Locasta and Traper were thrilled at the news that their first grandchild would be arriving around late April, and had told both Trism and Elphaba that if they needed anything, to let them know.

She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to her head. "I love you, Fabala. I love you so, _so much_."

She smiled softly, turning in his arms. "I love you, Tris." She sighed, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. "I never thought I would..."

"I know. It's... it's _insane_. This whole... situation. It's completely insane." He replied, understanding what she was having trouble putting into words. He rested his forehead to hers. "But it's... the most beautiful type of insanity. If I had to be insane for the rest of my life, I would choose this kind, because it's _absolutely wonderful._ _You_ make it wonderful." She smiled softly, cradling his cheek.

"You make it breathtaking." They locked gazes for several minutes, before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss. It always amazed Trism how much he'd come to love Elphaba in the short time they'd been together. Yes, his soul had belonged to Nessarose, but his heart... his heart was very quickly belonging to her sister, and vice versa. Slowly, he walked her back until they were sitting together on the bed, never breaking the kiss. She let him help her out of the dress, leaving her in only her undergarments, before helping him out of his. "Should we really be doing this, Tris? What about the impression it will make on the baby?"

He wrinkled his nose, making her laugh, and then rolled his eyes. "Fabala, this isn't the eighteen-hundreds. There is no scientific evidence that the child becomes..." He sighed. "Oh, what is the word... degenerate. No scientific evidence whatsoever."

"Since when do you put your faith in science, my king?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I will always put my faith in science." He whispered, kissing her quickly. "When required, my queen." He brushed a strand away from her face. "Besides, you haven't exactly been helping."

She blushed; so he _had_ noticed when she'd said or done something that indicated she was interested in the pleasures of their marriage bed in the last couple of months. _Of course he noticed, you idiot. Trism's not stupid._ "So what do you say, Tris?" She bit her lip. "Can we?" He captured her lips, giving her his answer.

* * *

 _"Mmm... Tris... harder, my love..."_

Had this been the eighteen-hundreds, or even the last two decades, when Elphaba's parents had been on the throne, such sexual acts would have been banned. As it was, there was still a certain taboo that fell like a mantel around certain positions when it came to intercourse. Intercourse while on hands and knees like a _canine_ was one such taboo that was _not_ crossed, regardless of whether the couple was royal or not.

But even four months into her pregnancy, Elphaba was no longer comfortable lying back among the pillows during intercourse; after a while, the nerves in her back would hurt, and this was more comfortable for her. And Trism, her darling husband, was willing to do whatever his beloved empress requested. Rumors swirled at court that he was more dog than human, but in reality, he was willing to do as his wife requested because he knew how delicately balanced a marriage could be. Like a ballerina balanced on a rope hanging between a cliff; too far to either side, and she would go over.

He had watched his parents struggle to maintain that balance for years; eventually, his father had learned that to keep the balance even, he followed his wife's cue. They compromised and worked together to maintain balance. When one went too far, the other pulled them back. When one didn't go far enough, the other helped them too. It was all about compromise.

And Trism was determined to keep their marriage as evenly balanced as possible. If that meant he was more dog than human, so be it. Those at court weren't the ones who wore his ring or carried his child. They weren't the ones he needed to impress or understand. It all came down to Elphaba. He did what she said, because she controlled the game. In this game of Chess, he might one day be the king, but she would _still_ outrank him.

And in order for either to win, they needed to work together; Check was _not_ an option.

She buried her face in the pillow, attempting to stifle her moans so as not to alert the maids or Glinda, who was helping Cattery with something downstairs. He pulled her hips back as he continued to thrust into her. She threw her head back, long black curls having come out of the twist she'd put it in earlier. The silky strands rained over him, enveloping him in the heady scent of roses, and he tangled a hand in her hair. "Tris?" She turned to look at him over her shoulder, and he leaned over, capturing her lips in a deep kiss; the rhythm was steady, similar to the beating of a heart.

"Fabala?" He breathed, sliding a hand gently over her waist to caress the swell of her abdomen. She kissed him deeper, reaching up to cradle his face in her hand. He groaned against her lips, feeling her arch her back in response. _"Oh, Fabala..."_

 _"Harder, Tris... please..."_

He did as she asked, grabbing her hips; there would be bruises from his fingers, he knew, dark bruises against her beautiful porcelain skin, but they would be a small price to pay for the pleasure she was experiencing. And if Elphaba were honest with herself, she didn't care what those at court thought of her; she was the one they bowed to; when Trism took the Vinkun throne, she would be his consort; she carried the heir to two kingdoms, two _dynasties_ , within her womb- the baby was growing and forming at that very moment, she could feel it. She held all the cards in regards to the Fliaanian court, and could control the Vinkun court if she so chose once Trism took the throne. She was the most important piece in this game of Chess.

What she did with her husband behind the closed doors and walls of their bedroom, within the sheets of their marriage bed, was her business and her business alone. And there were multiple nights when they had joined together, becoming a two-backed beast among tangled pillows and twisted sheets. It was those nights, when they let the passion that smoldered between them take control, that were the most fun. For a few hours, they were just a couple, partaking in sexual pleasure.

 _"Trism... oh, my darling... deeper..."_

He kissed her shoulder lightly, before nipping gently at the skin. She shivered as his teeth gently grazed over her porcelain skin, and he did it again, recognizing the soft moan of pleasure she let escape her throat. He had done it before, and always gotten the same response. "Relax, sweetheart. I can't fill you if you don't relax. You want to be completely wrapped around me, don't you?" She nodded; as shiver running up her spine as he spoke.

For all his gentlemanly graces, royal standing, and loving nature, there was a side of her husband that he'd kept hidden from her; a side she was quickly discovering that she liked. He could be commanding when he wanted to be, but he often kept it in check- something that was a mark of a good king. His laid back, easy-going, relaxed personality masked a true ruler. It was rare that he let that part of his personality show, but when he did, it made her heart flutter, to know that when she needed him, _that_ man would be there, helping her to keep her balance.

 _"Oh, Trism..."_

She cried out as he pushed into her again, her knees going weak at the desire pulsing through her body. Thanks to the pregnancy, her senses were heightened; each thrust, each movement, each kiss was felt tenfold. Every time he thrust into her, her senses went into overdrive; the sensitive areas of her body were ten times more now than they had been before she'd gotten pregnant, and she used that to her advantage. Every pulsing desire, every orgasm was stronger than it had been before Trism impregnated her; it was as though she was discovering a new side of herself, a side she liked very, very much. A side her husband _definitely_ liked.

He had to admit, the pregnancy had changed her; not just her body, but her way of thinking, her way of reacting. She considered the baby before doing anything, considered how her actions would affect the baby growing inside her, how her reactions to things would affect her body, and the health and growth of their baby. She was more cautious of the situations she got herself into, considering how they would affect the baby's growth before she did anything. Trism knew that once the baby was born, those instincts she was learning to follow now, would be multiplied tenfold because the baby would no longer be within her womb, but in her arms.

But the pregnancy had also unleashed a side of his wife he hadn't seen before. She could be wild, primal even. It was as though she was tapping into the most animalistic part of herself, the wild part of her that no one saw. It was as though the baby had allowed his wife to become more true to herself in a way. And knowing that he got to witness such a beautiful part of the woman he loved, caused his heart to constrict in pride.

 _"Push harder, Trism, I need more of you, please... I need you to fill me... Tris..."_

 _"We're joined as much as our bodies will allow, Fabala, my love..."_ He replied with a very guttural groan, knowing that even as he said it, he needed as much of her as she needed of him. He couldn't stop; to stop now would be to deny them both the absolute pleasure they desired.

"Mmmm... I can never tire of that sound..." She said, glancing over her shoulder. "You can be just as primal as I can be." He kissed her again, scraping his teeth along her lower lip. A low groan escaped his throat, and she grinned. "Turn me wild, my king. Please..."

He shook his head. "I've never... turned you wild... the baby growing inside you has... unleashed a _beautiful_ part of you... a part I hope to... to see more of..." She let out a very animalistic growl as he quickened his pace, resting a hand on the swell of her abdomen. She covered his hand with hers, moving to bury her face in the pillows to stifle her cries, but he stopped her. "No... there's... no need for you to... hide... this beautiful... wildness, Fabala... I want... to hear you... my queen... _my beautiful, wild queen..."_

 _"Tris... I..."_

 _"... Fabala..."_

 _"...h... harder, Tris... I'm... I'm almost..."_

 _"So... am..."_

Being so close to release, he captured her lips in his, sliding a hand down between her legs. His fingers found the small bundle of nerves hidden within the folds of her most private, sensitive area, and gently, he rolled the bundle between his fingers. He knew what he was doing; he watched and gauged his wife's reactions whenever they engaged, and stored the reaction away for later, knowing it was something that worked in his favor. Not that he needed much help in that department. But still, it was nice to have a few extra tricks in his arsenal.

She moaned in delighted surprise; that moan soon turned into a groan that forced her to arch her back; he wrapped his other arm around her waist, being careful of her belly, pushing up and into her as they rose onto their knees, bodies melding together. "My... wild... beauty..." Her hips bucked against his, and he groaned, pushing into her again until he was buried so deep within her that both were filled in a matter of moments. Her orgasm crashed over her moments later, but she didn't hold back; she allowed her husband the opportunity to hear the pleasure he'd brought her to; it was animalistic, primal, wild.

He followed her moments later, and she reached up, caressing his cheek, delighting in the sound of his release as it washed over him, as primal and animalisitic as hers had been. As the echoes of her husband's release faded in her ears, she reached down, covering the hand that cradled her abdomen. Still joined, they curled up in the blankets, taking the time to catch their breath, nuzzling in silence; a pair of wolves curled around each other and the cub growing in her womb.

* * *

She sighed; never had she been so content. Trism's strong arms were wrapped tight around her; his hands protectively covered her belly. She shifted slightly, eyes widening briefly in surprise to discover that they were still joined. A moment passed, before she reached up, brushing her knuckles against his cheek; he sighed in contentment, blue eyes fluttering open.

They'd slept; not long, a very light catnap.

She turned her head, meeting his gaze. A smile tugged at her lips and she cradled his head in her hand, nudging her nose against his. They shared soft kisses as the scent of intercourse settled over them in silence. Neither spoke; they didn't need to. The meaning was clear. They had each seen a very primal, animalistic side of the other, a side that neither had ever dared tap into.

Until now.

They both agreed that this baby was a very good thing on so many levels, for so many reasons, but this one was new. Because the pleasure they had tapped into was partially generated due to the baby forming within her womb. Protective, primal, similar to a pair of wolves protecting their pups. The pleasure was a response to the changes taking place; not only in her body, but in their marriage, in their lives- by showing each other these hidden sides, they trusting the other completely- something that would be of great importance as the baby continued to grow and Elphaba got closer to giving birth.


	19. Chapter 19

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to be there to meet my parents at the station?" She considered it, before shaking her head.

"Thank you for the offer, my love, but I think I'll stay here. There are a few things I want to get done, and I'd like to get some rest if I can. I never realized exactly how much carrying a child takes out of you."

Her husband chuckled softly. "Yes, well, despite all the energy you've lost, you still manage to keep me on my toes."

"Don't flatter me, my king. It's insulting." She replied, shoving him gently, and he laughed, pulling her close and brushing a thumb against her cheek.

"I'm sorry, my queen, but it's true." He continued to stroke her skin, and she pressed her cheek into his palm. "This baby growing inside of you has only made you more beautiful with each passing day. You glow, more than usual; and since I'm being honest, the sight of you stripped bare in our bed at night makes my heart stop, because then I can _see_ how our child is growing, and it's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. _You_ , in nothing but that beautiful skin, is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen."

She blushed, meeting his gaze. "You are partially responsible for this baby inside me, Tris." She whispered, taking his hands and resting them on her abdomen. They had finally gotten up and dressed in fresh clothes, remaking the bed in silence. There was no need to change the sheets; they would just do the same again tonight, if they felt up to it.

Trism watched as the white dress she wore strained lightly against her belly. He knew that as the weeks progressed, the dresses she wore would strain more and more against her belly, as the baby grew within her, until she became soft, round curves. Her clothing would have to become looser, to allow for her growing abdomen. Her weight would shift; her hips would loosen as her body got ready to deliver their child. And soon, around late April or early May, her belly would drop, and the baby would shift into her pelvis, getting ready to be born; her body would then begin to experience contractions, which would be the first sign that birth was imminent. Her waters would rupture, and that would be the signal that the baby would soon make their entrance into the world.

He knew that when that happened, he would be a nervous wreck. He hated seeing Elphaba in pain, but knowing that the pain she would endure to bring their child into the world would be partially his fault-

The baby's head would soon begin to appear at her opening, and then fully appear, and soon she would be pushing to expel their child from her body. It would be long, painful, and he would most likely be ordered out of the room, despite her protests; he knew how royal births worked. Just because the baby that would be born would be his, wouldn't mean he would be allowed to be there to witness its entrance in the world, unless his wife demanded it, which knowing Elphaba, she probably would. But regardless, after hours of labor, the baby would appear, covered in afterbirth and blood, and he would be laid in Elphaba's arms after being cleaned.

And _that_ was the moment he was most looking forward to.

The moment that their baby was laid within his mother's arms, and Elphaba got her first real look at the child she had carried for nine months. _That_ was the moment he couldn't wait to see. The moment when he and his wife went from being a couple to being parents, to having a _family_.

"Tris... Tris... _Trism!_ "

He started, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You were staring at my belly as though it held all the answers to the universe and not our growing child." She reached up, stroking his cheek. "Where did you go?" Worry tinged her voice, and she furrowed a brow. "You appeared to be a million miles away." She continued stroking his cheek. "My belly is really not that exciting, my darling. It is just going to keep growing until the baby decides he is ready to be born. I promise you, there's not much excitement going on." She glanced down at her belly, but shook his head.

"That's where you're wrong, Fabala." She raised an eyebrow. "You're seeing it that way because our baby is growing within you. I'm seeing it as my wife is allowing our child to grow within her, and she's only going to get more beautiful as she get closer to birth." She giggled, relaxing against him, unaware that the pain in her soul was slowly starting to clear.

* * *

"I'll be back as soon as I can, my love. I'll let mother and father know that you opted to stay here, and that you'll see them when we get back." She nodded, reaching up to caress his cheeks before sliding her hands down his chest. He brushed a soft kiss to her lips before catching her hands and kissing her knuckles. He brushed a hand against her belly, remembering the excitement that had permeated the air when they'd informed his parents that Elphaba was with child.

Locasta had burst into tears and pulled them both into her arms; the young queen had always hoped for grandchildren, at least now, with one of her sons, she would get her wish. Traper had stayed back, allowing his wife to have this precious moment with her son and daughter-in-law. He'd pulled Elphaba into a hug; for all the chaos in the young empress's life over the last decade- from growing up a Grand _Kauri_ in one of the oldest, most well-respected royal houses in all Oz, to the sudden abdication of her parents and their subsequent house arrest, followed by their removal from the palace to the small mansion that would become a slaughterhouse, where her entire family would be wiped out, to being missing for ten years only to be found after a decade and returned to take her rightful place on the throne of her home country, in order to restore her family's dynasty- she had certainly maintained a fairly calm contenance. And Trism... Trism certainly helped.

He sighed, meeting her gaze. "Have I told you that you've made me the luckiest man in the world?"

She grinned. "Yes, you have, actually."

He pulled her close, holding her gently against him, feeling the soft swell of her belly against his shirt. "Well, I'm telling you again, Fabala. You have made me the luckiest man in the world." He kissed her firmly. "I love you." He whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

"I love you, too." He pressed one last kiss to her lips before moving down the steps and climbing into the car. She stayed with Glinda on the steps, her arms wrapped protectively around the swell of her belly. Absentmindedly, she gently stroked the small swell, lost in thought. If he was lucky, then so was she. She was married to a wonderful man, and in a little under five months, the baby she carried would enter the world, and she would get to watch Trism go from just being a husband to being a father as well. Their baby would be the luckiest child in the world. "Trism!"

He turned back as she called out to him, one foot in the car. "Fabala?"

Her teeth slid out to worry her bottom lip, before,

"I love you, darling!"

A look of surprise passed over his features, before he grinned; the same grin he'd thrown at her across the table at that disastrous luncheon, back when their betrothal had been announced, to the surprise of both. The very grin that made her notice him, not as Fiyero's younger brother, but as a young man. "I love you, too, sweetheart!" And then he climbed into the car, nodding to the driver. Once he was gone, headed for the train station to meet his parents, Elphaba followed Glinda back into the mansion.

* * *

"Do you need help with anything, Fabala?" The young empress shook her head.

"Thank you, Glinda, but I think I'm just going to fix a cup of tea and spend some time in my boudoir."

Glinda narrowed her gaze. "You _don't like_ tea."

"Thank you, Cattery." The maid nodded as she set the cup on the table in front of her mistress, and the young royal took a sip before speaking, noticing the inclination in her cousin's tone. "You're right, Glinda, I don't. But I've found that lavender tea is the only thing that can settle my bouts of sickness, especially in the morning. Some crackers as well, Cattery, please."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Pinlobble jam as well?" Elphaba nodded, and Glinda watched as the maid set out a small jar of poppy-colored jam and a butter knife. The blonde's eyes widened in shock as her cousin proceeded to spread the jam on the crackers herself, taking a bite of the first one.

"Ah... Fabala?"

"Hmm?" The young empress turned to her, sucking the jam off her fingers.

"Is... is that... safe? For the baby?"

"Pinlobble jam?" Glinda nodded. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I... I know that the leaves are poisonous-"

"Yes, and if you eat the leaves themselves, they'll kill you. The jam isn't made from the leaves, Glinda, it's made from the _meat_ of the pinlobble _flower_ itself. The stems are used in stews and side dishes; the rest of the flower is entirely edible; it's the leaves that aren't."

"But... Fabala, you're pregnant."

The young empress rolled her eyes heavenward as she reached for another cracker and the butter knife again. " _Really?_ I wasn't aware. I simply thought my bouts of sickness and swelling abdomen were all in my head." Glinda glared at her, unappreciative of the sarcastic tone. "What is your point, Glinda?"

"Won't pinlobble hurt the baby?"

"Actually, pinlobble is often recommended to a woman during pregnancy because the flower and stems have nutrients that can help the baby's development, if you... don't mind my saying, Your Majesty." Cattery whispered, fearing she'd overstepped her place, but her mistress simply shook her head and wrinkled her nose as she proceeded to spread another thin layer of jam onto a cracker.

"You're fine, Cattery." Elphaba replied, biting into her cracker.

"My mother was a midwife; I... learned a few things from her." The maid whispered at Glinda's strange look.

"Pinlobble jam again, Your Majesty?" Glinda turned as the cook entered the kitchen. "I remember your mother asked for the same thing when she was with child." Impeccata Mombi had been a scullery maid in the household of Elphaba's parents, who had been a particular favorite of Melena; she had been a child when Melena had bore her two youngest daughters and then her son, and often remembered the nights when the young Empress would send her to the kitchens for crackers and a bowl of pinlobble jam to satisfy her cravings.

When the revolution hit and the majority of the household left, Impeccata stayed until the family had moved from the palace to the mansion, and she'd been forced to leave the only home and family she had ever known. She had gotten to be quite fond of Elphaba, and had begged to go with them, as the third daughter's maid, but her request had been denied. Only the doctor, valet, cook and Melena's personal maid were allowed to go with the family, no exceptions. She had been the age of the second oldest daughter when the family and their remaining household had been ripped apart. She had watched with tears in her eyes as Elphaba and her parents had gone on to the mansion ahead of the rest of the family, for Shell was still too weak from a fall to be moved yet; the rest of the family and their few servants would follow a day later, but that didn't mean the separation was any less painful, especially for the two youngest Kauri; they had never been apart for more than a few hours, at most...

 _"I'm don't want to go."_

 _She took the young Kauri's face in her hands, brushing the tears away. "You must go, Kauri. Nessarose is too young, Sophelia is not mentally healthy, and Oziandra must stay to look after Shell who is still too weak. It must be you."_

 _Elphaba shook her head. "I wish you were coming, Cata."_

 _"I wish so too." She wrapped the fourteen-year-old in a hug. "You must be strong, Kauri. For your parents and your family. You will all be together again soon." She pressed a kiss to the girl's head and then stepped back, allowing Elphaba to embrace her sister. Nessarose had clung to Elphaba, sobbing, begging her to stay, even though she knew that Elphaba wouldn't. Her older sister was nothing if not the dutiful daughter._

 _"That's enough!" A guard ripped the sisters apart; Nessa's screams broke the young maid's heart, and she tried her hardest to hold onto her sister's hand. The man walked the former princess to the waiting carriage, lifting her into it, unaware that Nessa had rushed after him. Once he stepped away, she grabbed her sister's hand, and Elphaba pulled her close._

 _"I love you, Nessa. Remember that."_

 _"I love you, Fabala-"_

 _The guard nodded for the driver to start, and the carriage jolted forward. The sisters held on as long as they could, Nessa hurrying beside it as best she could, before the speed picked up and ripped the sisters apart once more. Elphaba tumbled back against the seat, disappearing from view, though she could still hear her little sister's cries long after the palace disappeared behind them._

After the rest of the household had been let go, she had returned to her home in the north of Fliaan; when Elphaba had been found and returned, she had gone to the dowager, asking to speak with the young empress. The reunion had been bittersweet, as Elphaba had informed the former scullery maid that the rest of her family was gone; slaughtered like pigs for dinner in the basement of the mansion they had been sent to. Impeccata had asked to join her household, and Elphaba had readily agreed, happy to have a former member of her parents' household back with her. The former maid had quickly risen to cook; when Elphaba had informed her of her impending marriage to the Vinkun prince, she had offered her thoughts on the matter, helping Elphaba to understand that she as not her mother and could make her own decisions; she had made the cake for Elphaba and Trism's wedding, and when Elphaba had announced her pregnancy, she had promptly taken over the care of the young empress's nutrition.

But it was when Elphaba had come downstairs late one evening, asking for crackers and pinlobble jam, that Impeccata had started to cry, for she'd been flooded with memories of her time with Melena. It didn't surprise the former maid that her former mistress's daughter craved the same thing her mother had, and she made sure to keep several jars on hand.

"It's the only thing I've really craved at all." Elphaba replied, swallowing. She grabbed another cracker and slipped the butter knife back into the jar, slathering the cracker with the jam and licking the sweet substance off her thumb. "But I've always loved pinlobble jam, so this really doesn't surprise me. Mama and Papa always made sure I had my own pot of the jam at tea when I was little. Nessa was the one who couldn't stand the taste."

Impeccata chuckled. "Well, perhaps the baby will follow in your footsteps." The young empress caught the cook's eye and blushed, resting a hand against her abdomen.

"I hope so, Cata. It would be nice to have someone else who likes it, especially considering his father hates the stuff. Trism prefers Vinkun cranberry custard, and I've always hated cranberries."

"Pinlobble jam is a Fliaanian specialty, like blinkem and bell-snickles." The cook replied, mentioning the most well-known Fliaanian pastries that were often given as gifts, quickly refilling Elphaba's mug. The scent of lavender met her nose and she chuckled. "Lavender tea. You are your mother's daughter." Elphaba blushed.

* * *

She stopped, a brow furrowing in confusion at the sight of the study door open. Trism must have returned with Locasta and Traper; but she hadn't heard the car pull up, so that was impossible. After a moment, she shut the door, figuring one of the maids must have cleaned and forgotten to shut the door when she was done. She then made her way upstairs, looking forward to lying down for a while; Glinda was out in the garden, enjoying the sunshine, only doing so because Elphaba had promised her that she would go directly upstairs and lie down for a while. But when she entered their bedroom, she was surprised to find someone standing at the window, looking out.

"Excuse me, but... this is my and my husband's private suite, you aren't allowed to be in here. If you're here to speak to my husband about something, I would be happy to take you to foyer and you can wait for him there. He went to meet his parents at the train station, but he should be back soon."

"So my little brother is off meeting our parents at the station, and he left my wife at home. Well, my _former_ wife, since our marriage was annulled." The man turned, and Elphaba saw that he was using a cane. "Tell me, Fae, how is my little brother treating you?"

"I don't go by-" She swallowed, recognizing his eyes; they were Trism's eyes- eyes that she hoped the baby possessed. "F... Fiyero?" He smiled sadly at her, taking a step closer. It was clear that the pain his soul was in was ravaging his body as much as his soul; he was thin, exhausted. "Wh... what are you doing here?"

"I came to... congratulate my brother on his marriage to my wife." He replied as Elphaba shook her head.

"I'm not your wife anymore, Fiyero. I stopped being your wife the day you walked out on our marriage and left me in the City."

"Because you wouldn't give up that ridiculous search for your family!" He snapped, and Elphaba stumbled back, startled. "You were so determined to find your family, that you didn't give any thought to the possibility that _we_ were a family-"

"You knew, when you asked me to marry you in that cafe that I wanted to find my family. You _knew_ there was a possibility I was the missing _Kauri_. You knew- if you didn't want to know, you could have said no, but you knew and you still suggested-" She stopped, her head snapping towards the door; in the distance, she could hear a car, and her heart calmed, realizing Trism was back with Locasta and Traper. "Tris-"

Fiyero shook his head. "Well, this is going to be fun."

She turned back to him, opening her mouth to speak, when she heard the front doors open. "Fabala? We're back! Fabala?"

"Ah... up here, darling! I'm... I'm upstairs!" She called back, knowing that in minutes her husband would be hurrying up the stairs and walking into their room.

 _"Darling."_ Fiyero made a face, muttering the word in disgust.

"What do you want, Fiyero?" She asked, silently counting the steps she knew her husband was taking.

"I want you to stop this... this never-ending pain-"

She shook her head. "I didn't cause you that pain, Fiyero. You did it to yourself."

"And I did it to you, because you're my soulmate! A soulmate I never wanted in the first place-" She backed up, her back hitting the fireplace mantel. "I have loved you, from the moment I first laid eyes on you, but you just couldn't let go of your duty and standing in this... royal house of parlor games! I was willing to marry you when we were children, if you'd only give up this-"

 _"I didn't have a say, Fiyero!"_ Elphaba cried, losing her temper. She didn't want to hear it; she wanted him out of her home, out of her country, out of her life, for good. _"Just like you didn't have a say! It was our duty to do what our families wanted! We had no choice, we never did! But I had a choice this time! Not much of one, but I had a choice! You didn't give me a choice, so when one was presented, I took it, because it was the best option! And you know what? I'm happy with it! I have a husband who loves me, who would never walk out on me like you did who genuinely loves me and loves this baby that's on its way, and you are not going to change that! I am not going to give up everything to be with you, I don't want to! I'm not walking away from my throne, my country, my husband or my baby because you've suddenly decided that-"_

"Fabala? Is everything-" She let out a cry as pain grabbed her around the abdomen, reaching out to grab the mantel as Trism entered the bedroom. The young prince stopped, blue gaze darting between his wife and his older brother, surprised to see him again. Fiyero lifted his head.

"Well if it isn't my little brother, all grown up."

Trism's blue gaze darkened, and he glanced at his wife, who took a deep breath. "What the _hell_ are you doing here, Fiyero?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

She took a deep breath, turning from them both to regain her composure, but the pain was getting worse.

 _I'm only four months along; this baby has five months to go... I can't be in labor now, it's far, far too soon!_ She took another deep breath, closing her eyes and releasing it slowly. _This isn't labor. You know it's not. You know exactly what it is._ Another deep breath. _It can't be. I can't... Trism will never forgive me if I lose this baby... our baby... I can't lose my baby._

She choked on a sob, glancing down briefly before wrapping an arm around her abdomen, trying desperately to protect the life forming within her. _Please, for the love of the Unnamed God, don't take my baby._

A moment passed, and she turned back to them, lifting her chin and straightening her back. She couldn't allow herself to weaken, not now. "Fabala?" She met Trism's gaze as he hurried to her, taking her hand. She took another breath, removing her arm from around her abdomen as she reached for him, and he started in shock. Her brow furrowed.

"Tris-" She followed his gaze, her eyes widened at the sight of the blood on her arm. She could hear the footsteps on the stairs, but didn't notice as Glinda and her mother and father-in-law entered the room; her gaze moved slowly from her arm, and she cried out at the sight of the red beginning to stain the front of her dress. She shook her head, her composure shaking. _"No..."_

"Fabala, what's wrong?" Glinda cried going to her cousin, and the young empress lifted her head, back going rail straight; the blonde clearly hadn't noticed the red growing on her dress.

She reached for her cousin, squeezing her hand when the blonde got close. "Take me to my boudoir, Glinda, please."

"I thought you were-" But Elphaba shook her head.

"I got... distracted." She replied, glancing at Fiyero. As Glinda started do as told, she was stopped by Locasta, who went ashen.

 _"Oh, Elphaba!"_ The blonde turned back, confused, until she saw the blood stain growing on her cousin's dress. The soft white of the material was slowly becoming a sickly reddish-pink. She feared asking, but Elphaba could see it in her eyes. The young empress sniffled, reaching up to brush at the tears on her cheeks as Glinda slid an arm around her waist and helped her to keep her balance, because she felt as though she were about to collapse from heartbreak. As they reached the door to her boudoir, Elphaba turned back; she glanced between the brothers; Traper had rushed off to call for the doctor, and Locasta hurried to fetch the maids, informing them of what was happening.

Slowly, the empress turned her gaze to Fiyero; she was broken, he could see it. She shook her head, before turning to her husband. Tears swam in her eyes, mirroring the ones in his- as soon as he'd seen the blood on her arm, he knew what was happening; that their child was dying, that his wife was feeling that tiny life-that she'd felt grow for the last four months- dying within her, and he wished to the Unnamed God that he could stop it. Something flashed in his wife's gaze, and he swallowed thickly.

 _Please, please forgive me for_

"Just..." She glanced down as she removed her hands from her abdomen, seeing her skin stained red, and a sob escaped her throat before she met Trism's gaze, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I'm just losing our baby."

She was so calm as she spoke, that if Trism hadn't known any better, he'd think she was feigning, but he knew the emotion swirling in her voice, the pain building in her heart, the confusion clouding her mind.

By the time Locasta and the servants had brought warm water and towels, and Traper returned with the doctor, the blood was rolling down her legs in rivulets, staining her stockings and heels, and puddling on the hardwood floor. With bloody hands, she lifted the skirt of her dress, exposing her bloody stockings and shoes, and the blood on the floor. It was then that she lost her composure, dropping her dress and turning her hands to see the blood on her palms. She began to shake, mouth dropping open in shock, as her fingers curled into humanistic talons; if she could just blink, the blood would go away; it would disappear from her hands, her dress, and the baby would be fine. But when she blinked, it was still there, still staining her hands, her dress, the floor. She shook her head, a scream ripping from her throat like none anyone had heard before; the closest likeness had been the screams in the basement that night back in nineteen-eighteen.

Trism choked on a sob; her screams were animalistic, a mother wolf losing her pup, and it broke his heart. He rushed to her, ignoring the blood on her clothing and pooling at her feet as he gathered his wife in his arms. She held her hands up, palms facing inward as he held her, burying his face in her shoulder. _"No... no... my baby... our baby... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Trism... I'm sorry... our baby..."_

He tangled a hand in her hair, allowing her to break down, doing his best to maintain his composure for her sake. Her screams shattered his heart, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her pressed against him to keep her standing, when all he wanted was to collapse with her, but he knew he needed to be strong for her. He needed to be her strength because right now she had none. He shrugged off the hand that rested on his shoulder, wanting no one near his wife. "Your Highness, let me look at her. Please."

A moment passed, before he slowly pulled away, taking her face in his hands. He rested his forehead to hers, tears slipping down his own cheeks. The doctor looked away, giving the royal couple privacy- as much as would be allowed in this very public heartbreak. He heard what the prince whispered to his wife, saw him kiss her and hold her close, before slowly pulling away. Without a word, Cattery slipped into the room and took her mistress's arm, leading her into the Cerulean Room, the doctor and Glinda following. As the door shut behind them, Trism's gaze moved to the floor, to the blood staining the wood; the blood that was indicating that his baby- their baby- was no longer growing or even living. Elphaba's screams rang loud in his head, and he slowly turned, glancing at his parents before turning to his older brother. Very much aware that his clothing was stained with the blood of their child, he honed in on his brother, realizing that his brother was the reason his child was no longer living.

 _It's because of Fiyero that your child is gone. If he had just stayed away... if he hadn't shown up and upset your wife-_

Without a word, Trism stormed across the bedroom, murder sparking in his blue eyes. "Trism-" But before Fiyero could say any more, his younger brother's fist collided with his jaw.

"Trism!" But the young prince ignored his mother's cries, so focused on making Fiyero- the very bane of his existence, the reason behind everything playing out the way it had- pay for the loss of their baby. He let his temper get the better of him, but he didn't care at the moment, he simply cared about making his brother pay for what he'd cost them.

 _"You bastard! How dare you show your face here! How dare you seek out my wife! That was my baby! That was my son! My son! Mine! Do you understand? It's because of you that our baby is gone! You selfish son of a bitch! You-"_

 _"Trism!"_


	21. Chapter 21

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

She sniffled; seated on a folded towel on one of the chairs in her boudoir, skirt lifted past her knees, her legs propped up on a footstool as the doctor finished his examination; he'd done his best to stop the hemorrhaging she was experiencing, and after several minutes, the bleeding began to slow. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she watched in silence as the blood continued to drip down her white stockings. To think, that morning her baby was growing and healthy inside her and now...

"Fabala, I'm so sor-" Glinda started, but the young empress shook her head.

" _Don't_ , Glinda." She swallowed, tears continuing to slide down her cheeks. "I don't want to hear it." She slowly lifted her gaze from her stockings to the doctor; the examination had confirmed his fears; the young empress was in the process of a miscarriage, brought on by high stress. "Is.. there nothing you can do... to... save my baby..." But he shook his head, watching her choke on a sob and turn her head. Her hands went to her abdomen and she shook her head, trying to convince herself that it wasn't true, even as she tried her hardest to protect the child that was no longer within her. _"No... my baby..."_

Gently, Glinda reached out to stroke her back, but Elphaba pulled away. "I'm so sorry, Your Majesty."

"Is there anything she needs to do now that..." But the blonde stopped, unable to say it. _Now that she's lost the baby._

The doctor sighed. "Rest. She needs rest. As much as she can get. And she needs to eat."

"Will she... be able to have children? After this?"

He nodded. "I've treated many women who have given birth to healthy children after miscarrying, Countess Upland. Once her body has recovered from this, she'll be able to have as many children as she desires. But _after_ she had rest and regained her strength, both physically and mentally. She needs to stay down for the next four weeks or so, two weeks for the physical and two for the mental."

"We'll make sure she follows it, thank you doctor." Glinda whispered, and he nodded, moving to the door.

"After the four weeks, if you and Master Tigelaar would like to try again, you may, Your Majesty." She nodded, not looking up. But as the door opened, Elphaba's head snapped up, hearing the shouting. She stumbled to her feet, moving past the doctor to stand in the doorway.

 _"... our baby is gone! You selfish son of a bitch! You-"_

The sight of her husband beating his older brother to a bloody pulp in their bedroom, while his father, who had tried to break them apart go caught in the crossfire and had his nose broken, was being tended to by one of the maids and his wife was enough to make Elphaba temporarily forget the pain of losing her child.

 _"Trism!"_

He didn't hear her. "Fabala-" But Elphaba pulled away from Glinda; she strode over to the two men, grabbing her husband's arm, only to get pushed out of the way. "Fabala!"

 _"Trism, that's enough!"_ The young prince, turned, to see Elphaba standing behind them, hands covering her belly. She looked between the brothers, her gaze going to Fiyero. " _Get. Out._ " The former prince slowly climbed to his feet, reaching for her, but she stepped back, out of reach.

"Fae-"

Her head snapped up. "Get out, Fiyero. You're not welcome here. Not in my life, not in Colwen Grounds, and _certainly_ not in Fliaan. This is my country, my home, my family you just destroyed, simply by showing up. You cost me my baby. Now get out."

"Fae, I-"

She shook her head, reaching up and grabbing her head. _"No!"_

"Fae, please, listen to me-"

 _"No! Get out! Get out! Now!"_ The brothers shared a glance, before Fiyero did as told, turning back to her. Slowly, Elphaba lowered her hands.

"Fae, our souls-"

"I'm not yours. You have no soulmate, _remember_? You told my grandmother so. Now get out, Fiyero, and don't come back." Her voice was cold, monotone, heartbroken. Once he was gone, escorted out by his father and the doctor, Trism went to her. She slowly raised her eyes to his. "Our baby is _gone_ , Tris." She swallowed. "We have no need for that nursery now." Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back into her boudoir, slamming the door behind her. Five minutes later, everyone heard her heart-wrenching cries coming from within.

* * *

"She's locked herself in; she won't even speak to me. Glinda can't even get through to her."

"Trism, she's mourning the loss of her child, a very public, violent loss."

"I know that, mother, but... but it was my child, _too_. It's my loss, _too_." Locasta reached across the table, covering her son's hand with hers, the tears in his voice tugging at her heart.

"I know, my son. But you need to understand that Elphaba carried that baby; she felt it grow. Knowing that it's no longer growing inside her... is the worst pain a mother can feel." She squeezed his hand, watching as he became lost in the coffee in his mug. "Losing a child before it reaches adulthood is horrible, but losing a child before it's even finished growing in the womb..." She sighed. "Your father and I lost our first child to a miscarriage, too." Slowly, her son raised his eyes from his mug.

"I didn't know... I thought it was just..."

She shook her head. "A little girl, well, I was _hoping_ for a little girl. Before your brother. I miscarried her at four months, like Elphaba. Almost made me give up on having children."

"What made you keep trying?"

A moment passed, before she shrugged. "I knew that baby wasn't mean to be. Not yet. We weren't meant to be parents yet. There were things we needed to work through before we would be ready to become parents. And after we'd worked through those issues," She shrugged, sipping her coffee. "I got pregnant with your brother." She squeezed his hand again. "Trism, Elphaba miscarried that baby for a _reason_. You weren't meant to be parents, not now. There are things you two need to work through before you're ready to become parents. Fiyero was part of it yes, but there's more to it than that. I don't think you've fully forgiven your brother for running off or for hurting Elphaba like he did. And I don't think she's fully accepted that the rest of her family is really and truly gone. You need to work through these issues together, and once you do, I think you'll be ready for parenthood."

"But what if we work through them... how will we know if we're ready to try again? We didn't _try_ , it just _happened_..." She squeezed his hand again, leaning close.

"Trust me, my son. When the time is right to make another baby, you'll know. You'll _both_ know."

* * *

He shut the door softly behind him later that night. A fire roared in the fireplace, and he could see his wife curled in bed, tucked beneath the covers, her back to the doorway. One of the maids had cleaned the blood off the hardwood floor, and there was no sign of the dress, stockings or shoes Elphaba had worn when she'd lost the baby. He sighed, locking the door softly as was their habit, and then proceeded to undress. Once done, he made his way to the bed and slipped beneath the covers, reaching for her, but she shifted away from him, silent.

He took a deep breath, but didn't say anything. Instead, he turned away from her, waiting for sleep to take hold, to no avail.

"... you blame me for losing it."

He turned to face her, brow furrowing. "What?"

She didn't move. "You blame me for losing it. The baby."

He sat up, turning on the light on his nightstand. "Where did you get an idea like that?"

She shrugged. "Don't you?"

" _No!_ I don't. I blame my _brother_ for showing his face here and causing you enough stress that you _miscarried_ our child, but I don't blame you for the miscarriage. The one who holds blame for the loss of our baby is him, not you, Fabala."

Slowly, she shifted onto her back, turning her head to look at him. "It was growing in my womb, Trism. Doesn't that make me responsible?"

He shook his head. " _No!_ Fabala," He helped her sit up, turning to face her. "You are not to blame, you hear me?" He asked, taking her face in his hands. "You are _not_ to blame."

"But..." She took a deep breath. "What kind of wife am I, that I can't even protect our child as it grows inside me? What does that say in regards to our marriage? Or my... my rule or... or when you take the Vinkun throne and I become your consort? I can't even protect our _unborn baby_ , what kind of ruler will I be?"

"Fabala," he settled back against the pillows, pulling her into his lap and sliding his arms around her waist. Instinctively, he laid a hand on her belly, and gently, he stroked her skin softly through the material of her pajama bottoms. After a moment, she laid a hand over his, meeting his gaze with tears in her eyes. "I should have protected you better."

"I don't understand, Tris."

"I left you here while I went to meet my parents at the station; I should have insisted you come with me, I-" But he stopped when she kissed him.

"You didn't know he was going to be here. I don't think anyone knew. I don't even know how he managed to-" She stopped, swallowing.

"All I know, Fabala, is that I don't blame you for losing our baby. Clearly we weren't meant to have it right now."

"What are you-"

He met her gaze. "My mother suffered a miscarriage with her first baby, too. Around four months also. And... she said that... that what got her through it, was knowing that it wasn't meant to be. That there were things she and my father had to work through first, and once they'd worked through them, then they got pregnant with my brother."

"How did she know-"

He shrugged. "She said that they just knew when they were ready."

"Do... do you think that will happen with us? That... that we'll know?"

He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head as she curled into his chest. "I have _no doubt_ that we'll know when we're ready to make another baby."

* * *

He winced, tenderly touching his jaw. Well, one thing was evident; his baby brother had one hell of a right hook. He shifted gently, it definitely hurt. He was fairly certain it that he looked a fright; Trism had tried to beat him to a bloody pulp after all. He'd always known that his brother had a temper; that temper ran in the family, he had it, his brother, their father, but he'd rarely- if never- seen his brother lose it like he had today.

Then again, Elphaba had just miscarried their child, so he really couldn't blame him. Trism had every right to be upset; he'd just lost his child.

He sighed, the door to his apartment in the Corn Exchange shutting behind him. Her words came back to him, as cold as they'd been when she'd spoken them out loud.

 _You have no soulmate, remember?_

Though he may have said it, it didn't make up for the pain he was experiencing, deep down in his soul.


	22. Chapter 22

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

"Locasta?"

The queen looked up from her reading, to find her daughter-in-law in the doorway of the study, still in her pajamas, a silk kimono robe wrapped around her small body. The younger woman was pale, her long black hair tumbling down her back and shoulders, making her features appear sharper than normal. "Fabala, you heard what the doctor said. You need to be in bed, resting-"

"I couldn't." The younger woman choked on a sob, shaking her head. "I just... kept thinking of... I felt it, Locasta. I _felt my son die_..." She broke down, and the queen pulled her daughter into her arms, holding her close.

"I know, Fabala." She whispered, knowing that the last thing she needed was to treat the young woman like an adult; she needed to be treated as a mother treated her daughter, because she was her daughter. And she had just gone through a very personal, heartbreaking loss. "Believe me, darling. I've felt it too; it's the worst feeling in the world, when you feel your child die in the womb. Come on, darling." She pulled away, bringing the girl into the study and taking a seat on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

A week had passed since the miscarriage; a week since Fiyero had shown up and caused all sorts of chaos. If Locasta had been in her right mind and not in such shock, she would have dealt with her oldest son herself; but she'd been so horrified at the loss of her grandchild, and at Elphaba's reaction to the miscarriage, that she'd forgotten her oldest son was even there. But had she realized... _He wouldn't have walked out of this palace. He wouldn't have left alive. Elphaba and Trism were generous, allowing him to leave alive; far too generous, for all the pain he caused them. I would not have been as generous._

She reached up, stroking a hand through her daughter's hair. The two women sat in silence for several minutes, before Elphaba finally spoke. "He blames me. Trism." She replied, at Locasta's confused look. "For losing our baby. He says that he doesn't, but I know he does."

"Oh, Elphaba," The queen sighed, reaching out and taking her daughter's hand. "Trism doesn't blame you."

"How do you know?" Her voice was broken, small; her dark eyes were took big for her small features at the moment, and her skin too close to death's pallor to be normal at the moment.

"Because Trism isn't like that. He would never blame you for something you couldn't control, you know that. My son puts his faith in science; had he not been born a prince, he would have been a brilliant scientist. He knows how the female anatomy works in all aspects; he knows what happens when a miscarriage occurs, and he knows that it was not up to you to control whether you miscarried or not. He doesn't blame you for losing the baby, and you know he doesn't. Trism is not the type of man to place blame on a woman, for anything. He's too much of a gentleman."

"He is not all gentleman." Elphaba whispered, thinking of the nights when her husband let go of his gentlemanly ways and took control. Locasta chuckled, understanding what her daughter-in-law didn't say.

"He loves you so very much, Fabala." She whispered, reaching up to caress her cheek. "He has never been more in love, not even with your sister."

"Locasta?" The young empress bit her lip, thinking. "Is it... is it possible for... for soulmates to change?"

A quizzical look flashed over the queen's face for a moment. "Why do you ask, Fabala?"

She shrugged. "I just... I've started noticing that the pain in my soul has been... lessening. And... and when Fiyero was here last week, I... I realized that... that I felt nothing for him. No pain, nothing. Nothing but contempt."

"It's very possible, Fabala. I have never heard of it happening, but that doesn't mean that it hasn't or _can't_ happen. And you both have suffered so much loss, that it wouldn't surprise me if your souls turned to one another and became linked. It's very, very possible-"

The front door closed and footsteps could be heard; Trism had gone to fetch Partra at the train station earlier in the day. They'd informed the dowager of the miscarriage, and Partra had insisted on coming to see her granddaughter. "Fabala?"

"We're in here, Trism!" Locasta called; minutes later, the young prince entered with the dowager in tow.

"Fabala, what are you doing out of bed? You're supposed to be resting, my darling." The two women watched as he made his way to his wife; he helped Elphaba to her feet, but she shook her head.

"I can't sleep, Tris. I keep... I keep thinking of that afternoon..."

He took her face in his hands, gently brushing the tears away. "Look at me, Fabala. _Look at me_." He caught her gaze. "I don't blame you. I could _never_ blame you. You are not responsible for the loss of our baby."

"But I was carrying him. I was supposed to protect him... _I couldn't protect our son_..." He pulled her to him, holding her close, letting her cry, tears filling his blue gaze. Parta covered her mouth to stifle a cry, and Locasta slowly stood, going to the dowager. She took the older woman's hand, and with a soft nod, the two slipped out of the room, understanding that they needed to give the couple privacy. The door shut softly behind them, and after a moment, Trism pulled away, brushing strands of black hair off her face.

"Elphaba, if _anyone_ should be held responsible for not protecting our son, it's me. I thought I'd protected you both from everything, and I hadn't. I wasn't able to protect the two most precious people in my life-"

"You did the best you could, Trism. You can't protect them from everything." The pair turned to find Partra in the doorway. "You're only human, my darling." Slowly, Elphaba pulled away from her husband, going to her grandmother. Partra wrapped the girl in a hug, whispering her apologies for the loss, and Elphaba nodded. She then held out a hand, which after a moment, Trism moved to take. The dowager pulled him into a hug, reaching up to take his face in her hands. "So often, the focus is on the mother, that we forget that there are two people suffering a tragedy like this. We forget that the father is suffering from this loss just as much as the mother." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You do not need to be strong, Trism. You have every right to mourn the loss of your child. I would expect nothing less. Okay?" Slowly, the prince nodded, tears trailing down his cheeks. "My grandson... you were so strong when it was happening, you needed to be, but you don't need to be now. No one is expecting you to be now."

* * *

The family was settled in Elphaba's boudoir for tea; Glinda watched her cousin, who was leaning against the small railing of her private balcony. She knew not the pain of losing a child, so she had no idea what to say in regards to comfort for her beloved cousin. Their journeys were now going on completely separate paths- Elphaba was locked in a marriage and- if she wanted to consider it- would one day become a mother again, when she was ready. Whereas Glinda had never considered marriage nor motherhood, when those were the two things Elphaba had always wanted, from the time she was a child.

After a moment, Trism excused himself, slipping out onto the balcony to join his wife. He laid a hand on her shoulder and she looked at him but didn't move. With a sigh, he leaned against the balcony railing; they stood in silence, before she laid her head on his shoulder. The simple gesture was so discreet that he didn't even move, he could feel her relax slightly beside him. Without hesitating, Glinda grabbed the camera she had been using to take photographs in the garden and quickly snapped a couple shots, freezing the moment forever in time.

Locasta and Partra shared a glance; sat beside them, listening. The king was often silent; he believed that words were only required when absolutely necessary, or when they would make the biggest impact. Trism had inherited much of his father's personality; he often only spoke when he believed what he had to say would impact the conversation, but he also put a lot of stock into thought, and suggested people think before they speak, to consider the impact of their words.

"I know that Trism once had his heart set on marrying Nessarose, but I truly do believe that Elphaba is a better match for him, Locasta. I saw her when she was briefly married to Fiyero, and it was not a good match. He claimed to have loved her, but using the one you claim to love for your own financial gain... yes, he restored my granddaughter to me and therefore, restored her to Fliaan... but love her, he did not. Not the way Trism loves her. Fiyero loved her as a businessman loves money; Trism loves her as a man loves a woman. She is his partner and his lover, his equal."

"Trism has always been different to his brother." Traper replied, refusing to say his oldest son's name. As far as the king was concerned, he only had one son. "He always believed in making the Vinkus a better place for all who live there, even as a child. Not once, did that boy ever say 'I want' in regards to something. He would always ask if what he was interested in would be good enough for the people, and if the answer was yes, then he would agree to it for himself as well."

"If it was good enough for the people, it was good enough for the prince." Partra replied, knowing that had been Frexpar's policy- if the food his troops were eating was good enough for them, it was good enough for him; if not, he would demand it changed for the better immediately. He had raised his children to think the same way; the toys the children outgrew were cleaned and fixed up and given to the orphanages in the cities; the clothing would be donated to the working houses; as a child, Elphaba had been known to take the money her parents had given her for allowance and buy bread at the local baker's- saying that the bread she bought would be for those less fortunate who had nothing to put in their stomachs. Yes, off all the royal children, Elphaba's heart had been the biggest. She truly cared for the people of Fliaan; she possessed so much of Frexpar's giving spirit, that it made Partra's heart constrict.

"That they should be suffering this heartbreak," Locasta stopped, as Partra stood, going to the mantel; a formal portrait of her son's family hung above the mantel, with smaller framed photographs of the family on the mantel below it; one of her and her siblings around the Tercentary, of her parents not long after their wedding, of her and her sisters weeks before the revolution. "Elphaba has lost so much already..."

"My son and daughter-in-law were not strong rulers, Locasta. They were not weak either, but they were certainly not as strong as some. But what people keep forgetting is that Frexpar and Melena were only human. They were not immortal, and I think that's what people like to believe; that they could have done everything, when in reality, they could only do so much. I think people like to think that their rulers can do more than they actually can."

"I am not Papa." Everyone turned to see Elphaba back in the room; Trism followed, shutting the balcony door softly behind them. He then rested his hands on his wife's shoulders, remaining silent. "I'm not Mama. I'm not _weak_ like they were."

"No one's saying you're weak, my darling." Trism whispered, rubbing her shoulders. She turned to meet his gaze.

"Don't _patronize_ me, Trism." She growled. "I know what the court says behind my back. You cannot stop all the gossip that swirls at court. I know what they think of me, what Parliament thinks of me, what the other royal houses think. I'm not stupid. I know very well that they view me as weak; that they equate me to my parents. Well I'm not my parents. I won't be a weak ruler; I've learned from my parents mistakes. I won't make the same ones."

He pressed a kiss to her head. "I know, Fabala."

She turned to face him, something sparking in her dark eyes. "I control the game. I'm the strongest piece on this chess board. You've said so yourself."

He took her hands, lacing their fingers. "I know, Fabala. I'm not disputing you."

"You bow to me. You _all_ bow to me. _I'm the queen, I control the game!_ " She looked at each in turn, before her gaze landed on the portrait hanging over the fireplace. _"I am not you. I'm not weak like you. I will never be weak like you. I won't let mystics take control of my court or my country. I won't bury myself in my faith, and when I do have a child, I won't let my fear stop me from ruling like it did you, Mama."_

Trism followed her, grabbing his wife around the waist when he realized her knees were about to buckle. "Fabala, calm down, _calm down!_ " He reached up, brushing the curls off her cheeks, and paled.

 _"I'm not weak, I'm not like you... I'm not like either of you!"_

Without a word, he scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and winced at the heat radiating against her skin. "She's burning up with fever. I'm going to put her to bed. Glinda, have Cattery fetch Doctor Dillamond; tell him that something's wrong." The blonde nodded, rushing off to do as she was told.

* * *

Trism had been kicked out of the bedroom as soon as Dr. Dillamond arrived; he spent the time pacing the floor of his wife's boudoir. Suddenly, his wife's ramblings had all made sense; delirium from fever, but what had caused the fever?

"Trism, stop, you're going to wear a hole in the floor of Elphaba's boudoir, and then she'll never forgive you." Locasta spoke up, from her place by the fire. She knew her son was nervous, with everything that had gone on in the last week and a half, she didn't blame him. Traper had slipped out onto the balcony to smoke, and Partra had joined him, leaving mother and son together, for Glinda had refused to leave her cousin's side. He stopped his pacing when the door opened; Traper and Partra returned from the balcony, and everyone waited with bated breath.

"My wife, how is she? Doctor?"

Dillamond removed his glasses, cleaning them on a handkerchief. "The placenta did not entirely detach during the miscarriage. It's not uncommon, and I caught it early. Sometimes, women will go for weeks after miscarriage and not realize the placenta was still intact, and then it poisons the blood, but since we only caught it little under a week after the miscarriage," He shrugged.

"It can be fixed?" Trism asked, blue eyes wide with fear. The kind doctor chuckled softly.

"Deep breath, Your Highness. It's fixable. I've given her an injection that will start the contractions and had her moved to the bathroom; once the placenta is expelled from her body, she'll be fine. Her fever will break and her delirium will disappear."

"And... and other... other children?"

"She's strong; she can give you many children if that's what you both desire. This will not change that."

The prince nodded absentmindedly. "Can I see her?"

Dillamond stepped aside. "She asked me to fetch you, Your Highness." Without a word, Trism rushed past the doctor, into the bathroom; he found his in nothing but a nightgown, seated in the tub, a contraction grabbing her around the abdomen.

"Fabala!" She looked up, reaching for him.

 _"Trism... don't leave me..."_ Without a word, he removed his shoes and climbed in behind her, holding her close. She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing, as her body went through the contractions that would expel the placenta.

"I'm right here, darling. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I would never leave you, I love you. I love you so, so much." He brushed strands of hair off her forehead, brushing kisses to her skin as he held her close. The others stood in the doorway, watching in silence. Cattery, with the skills she'd learned from her mother, was helping as best she could.

"Easy, Your Majesty, push easy. That's it."

"I'm... supposed to be... doing this... so our baby could be born... not now..." She choked on a sob, and he kissed her forehead in response, recognizing that her fever was already starting to break.

"Once more, Your Majesty." She let the contractions take control, and crying out at the sight of the water in the bath turning pink. After a moment, the maid scooped the placenta into a towel, wrapping it quickly. "If... you would like, Your Majesty... I can have the sack buried in the garden. It's... old tradition in the north, where I come from, that to bury the sack from a lost fetus would bring prosperity and fertility to the mother. It's believed that... the nutrients from the sack soak into the soil and... are said to bring strength to the mother for the next child she carries. If that's all right?" Elphaba nodded, giving her consent silently, before curling into Trism's arms, tears rolling down her cheeks.

* * *

He slipped in beside her that night, surprised when she curled into his arms before he'd even had a chance to pull the blankets around him. She looked up at him, and he sighed, resting his forehead to hers. "Thank the Unnamed God you're okay. I don't know what I would have done had I lost you."

"Do you think it's true? What Cattery said tonight?"

Her husband snorted softly. "Silly pagan superstition-" He bit his lip, seeing the tears well in her eyes. "Fabala, I didn't mean..." He sighed. "I don't know." He replied, honestly. "Science would say no," He stopped. "You want it to be true, don't you, my queen?"

"I want children, Tris. I've always wanted children. Is it such a bad thing to hope that... that maybe a maid's tradition from the north might be true?"

He sighed softly, pulling her close. "If it's what you want, my love, then no, it's not a bad thing. Not at all."


	23. Chapter 23

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N: So according to what's written, there are two more chapters that take place in 1928, and then she has _another_ story that's a continuation of this one, that she wrote in _2006_ , that takes place in and follows 1929. I don't know if she wants me to post that one or not, so, it's up to you if you all want to read the one that takes place after this one or not. ****Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

Two weeks passed.

Three.

Four.

Eventually, Doctor Dillamond gave the young empress a clean bill of health; she was allowed to return to her meetings with Parliament, as well as whatever else she'd been running around doing before the miscarriage. That included trips to visit her in-laws in the Vinkus.

They had caught the royal train to the Vinkus one late November day; Glinda had come along, as Elphaba's cousin and most trusted companion, the blonde was willing to do what the young royal wished; she had never been to the Vinkus, and so it was a grand adventure to the blonde.

 _"Papa, it looks so wild!"_

"Are the cities really split into three capitals?" Elphaba tore her gaze from the window, the memory of her first visit to the Vinkus as a child fading with the condensation on the window.

"Sorry, Glinda, what did you say?"

"Thinking of them again, Fabala?" Glinda asked, as her cousin slumped slightly in her seat. Trism had slipped off to the dining car for a cup of coffee, leaving the two young women to their own devices.

"I'm always thinking of them, Glinda. How can I not be? They're my family."

Sighing, the blonde reached out, taking her cousin's hand and squeezing gently.

"Coffee?" The blonde squeaked in surprise, and Trism backed up, the tray in his hands shaking slightly. "For the love of the Kumbric Witch, Glinda, warn a man before you do that!" His wife giggled, and the blonde rested a hand on her chest.

"Very funny, Your Highness." She replied, glaring at him. Elphaba couldn't control her giggling anymore and burst out laughing, and the two stopped glaring at each other to turn to her. It had been so long since either had heard the young empress's laughter that both had forgotten the sound. But then Glinda relaxed, accepting one of the mugs and sitting back in her seat, enjoying the sight of her cousin's laughing fit. The young prince handed the tray to a waiting servant, before holding out a mug to his wife and joining her. When her laughter finally died down, she turned to stare at both of them.

"What?" Trim shook his head.

"Nothing, my queen. It's just been so long since you've laughed like that, that we've just missed the sound."

She glanced at her cousin, before sipping her coffee with a blush growing on her cheeks.

* * *

The royal train pulled into the station in the capital of Arjiki; Locasta and Traper were awaiting the arrival. Trism had explained on the train- the three major cities of the Vinkus were named after what had once been the three most powerful tribes in the land; the Arjiki, Scrow and Yunamata. The royal palace of Kiamo Ko was not far from the city of Arjiki, and it was in that city that Trism and his brother had spent their childhood.

"There you are, my darlings." Elphaba stayed back, waiting for Glinda as Locasta embraced her son. The queen then went to her daughter-in-law, wrapping her in a hug, before going to the blonde and doing the same. "How was the trip?"

"It was good."

"It's beautiful here." Glinda whispered, looking around in awe. Elphaba giggled, slipping her arm through her cousin's.

"She's been saying that since we entered the Vinkus."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to see the city, Glinda. Shall we?" Locasta slipped her arm through Glinda's as Elphaba pulled away and joined her husband.

* * *

Once settled in their rooms at Kiamo Ko- Glinda had stumbled to a stop at the sight of the massive palace; "Is it bigger than the Winter Palace?"- Trism and his wife took the blonde on a tour of the estate, before returning in time for tea.

"I had one of the cooks send away for pinlobble jab, Elphaba. I know how you love it so." Tears came to the young empress's eyes.

 _"There you go, Fabala, my darling."_

 _"And it's mine? I don't have to share it?" Frexpar shook his head as the six-year-old's face lit up._

 _"It's all yours, Fabala."_

"I don't see how you can eat that." Trism replied, spreading cranberry custard on a biscuit and taking a bite as the family sat to tea in the sitting room.

"And I don't see how you can eat _that_." His wife responded, dipping her knife into the jam. The prince swallowed his bite before speaking again, gathering his thoughts.

"That's about all you ate when you were pregnant." Silence fell about the table, and after a moment, Elphaba spoke.

"Yes. And if our child had survived long enough to be born, I'm certain he would have liked it too. Because we both know his father can't stand looking at it." She replied, biting into her biscuit.

"I can stand looking at it, Fabala, it's the taste I can't stand." Trism replied, sipping his coffee.

"Have you ever tried it, Tris?"

Her husband set his cup down. "I have, actually. When I was a kid. I didn't like it. I didn't like most of the things that came from Fliaan."

Glinda turned to her cousin, and Elphaba swallowed her bite before setting the rest of her biscuit down. "I come from Fliaan. Or did you forget that, my king?" Her voice was even, and it was clear the prince had struck a nerve.

"I'm well aware of where you come from, I'm simply saying that most things that come from Fliaan aren't to my liking."

"Well your attitude certainly changed in regards to me." She replied, picking up her cup. "Maybe your tastes have changed in regards to the jam as well." He wrinkled his nose.

"Doubtful, very doubtful."

"How do you know? You haven't tried it!" She replied, grabbing a gob out of the pot with a spoon and flicking it across the table at him. It hit him square in the face, and Elphaba laughed. He quickly wiped it off his face, taking a deep breath. "So you want to play, do you?" And without another word, he grabbed the small bowl of custard and threw it; it hit her in minutes, running down her face and dropping onto her chest.

 _"Trism!"_ But the pair ignored Locasta, and instead, reached for whatever they could find on the table. Glinda let out a squeal and scampered back, narrowly missing being hit with the cream at Trism threw it at his wife; it landed in Elphaba's dark hair, and she retaliated with the sugar cubes. By the time the fight had ended, both young royals were covered; Trism had chased after his wife, grabbing her around the waist; their parents and Glinda watched in surprise as the two burst into laughter. She turned in his arms.

It clearly brought back memories of their honeymoon, and after a moment, Elphaba reached up, wiping at the coffee that was staining his skin. "Oh, Tris, you're a mess."

"So are you." He kissed her softly, resting his forehead to hers. "Oh, Fabala, I'm missed this."

"I have, too." The pair turned as Locasta cleared her throat. Hands on her hips, she glared at them both, and they had the decency to look ashamed. "Maybe we should go get cleaned up."

"Good idea." Locasta whispered, and Trism grabbed his wife's hand.

"The last thing you want to do is get on my mother's bad side. I've seen it, it's not pretty." Elphaba giggled, lifting her skirt and rushing after her husband.

* * *

The water was warm against her skin and she sighed. He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, and she glanced at him. He had asked one of the servants to draw a bath; once the water was finished filling the tub, Trism had excused the maid, pulling his wife into the bathroom with him. They now sat together within the water, both completely relaxed, all traces of their fight gone.

"You know I didn't mean what I said at tea today, right?" She leaned back against his chest, settled between his legs, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"About Fliaan? I know. You're too good to be so cold-hearted, my love."

He kissed her cheek, breathing in her scent. "I love you."

She sighed in contentment. "I love you." A knock sounded at the door, and she sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. "Yes?" Locasta stuck her head in, and quickly turned away.

"Trism, honestly." The young prince had a decency to appear embarrassed, but he pulled his wife closer.

"Really, mother? This isn't the last two-hundred years. Things have advanced. Marriages aren't like when you and father got married." The queen sighed, knowing her son was right; besides, if anything, they were simply cuddling, as Elphaba shifted to curl against her husband's chest, tucking her head beneath his chest. Her son was right, times were different. "You came in for a purpose?"

"Your father is going to witness the military drills tomorrow morning, he wanted to know if you wanted to attend with him." The young prince glanced at his wife, who shrugged.

"What time?"

"Ten." A moment passed, before he nodded, helping Elphaba sit up. Locasta grabbed a towel, helping her daughter-in-law out of the tub and wrapping it around her.

"I'm going to lie down for a while. I love you." He kissed her quickly, before Elphaba slipped past the queen and into the adjoining bedroom, leaving mother and son alone. Locasta watched as Trism wrapped his arms around his knees, lost in thought.

"Do you ever think about if something happened to father?"

"Why do you ask, Trism, darling?" Locasta asked, perching on the edge of the tub. He shrugged.

"I just... I know that my brother was supposed to inherit the crown if something happened. I know I was just the spare-"

"Oh, Trism, how dare you think of yourself as nothing more than a spare. You were never a spare." She took her son's face in her hands. "I was so thrilled when you were born; I never wanted you to take the throne, not because I don't think you could handle it, but because I wasn't sure you would want it. If you ever have to take the throne, I want it to be _your_ choice, not because you have to."

"And if I choose not to?"

She kissed his forehead. "Then it will be your choice, and your father and I will support you completely."


	24. Chapter 24

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

He groaned softly. His wife shifted in her sleep, and he tightened his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. A moment passed, before he shifted onto his back with a sigh; Elphaba whimpered softly in her sleep, tugging on his hand, and he chuckled softly. "I know, my darling. All I want is to stay in bed with you, but I agreed."

The last thing he wanted to do was get up at eight-thirty in the morning. He was too content, wrapped around his wife, that the last thing he wanted to do was witness military drills, but he'd agreed to go and he couldn't back out. He remembered going with his father when he was a child, to watch the drills, and they had always excited him; the uniforms, the procedures.

Shaking the sleep from his mind, he pushed himself up onto his elbow; Elphaba was still sound asleep, her back to him, long black hair tumbling down her back and spread over the pillows. Gently, he reached out to stroke her hair, and she sighed, snuggling further in the pillows. "You've made me the luckiest man in the world, my queen." With a sigh, he climbed out of the bed, forcing himself to get ready for the morning.

He dressed silently, his thoughts going to the woman curled up in the bed; she had changed him so much since their marriage had taken place. The pain in his soul had been slowly vanishing with each passing day, and he wondered if it was possible for soulmates to change.

After a moment, he made his way to the bed, brushing a kiss to her cheek. "I love you, Fabala." She shifted onto her back, reaching out for him in her sleep, and he took her hand, bringing it to his lips.

 _"Trism..."_ A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he leaned down again.

"I'll be back in a couple hours. I'm just going to go watch the drills with father." She sighed in her sleep, shifting her head. "Oh, Fabala. I love you, so, so much." He gently stroked her cheek and then kissed her lightly before pulling away. Then, grabbing his coat, he slipped out of the room, leaving his wife to sleep, when all he wanted was so badly to climb back into bed and join her.

* * *

Traper looked up as his son came down the stairs, pulling his coat on. "I was wondering if you had changed your mind or not."

The young prince adjusted the collar of his coat, glancing over his shoulder back up the stairs, where his wife slept soundly. Traper didn't miss the look; he knew that look; he'd worn it himself on more than one occasion.

"I highly considered it." The king chuckled softly, pulling his son close.

"I don't blame you, son. I wouldn't fault you for wanting to stay in bed with that young Fliaanian empress of yours." The young prince smiled softly, thinking of the woman he'd married, still sound asleep in their bed upstairs, and the impact she'd made on his life. "Your mother's still asleep as well. What do you say we leave them to get their rest? These drills shouldn't take long."

With a nod, Trism let his father lead him out of the palace. He turned back, gaze going to the window of the room they were staying in, before he climbed into the car beside his father.

* * *

It all happened so quickly.

The car and its small entourage passed through the streets of Arjiki; something rolled beneath the car; suddenly, the car behind them exploded, throwing Trism and his father forward. The car they were in ground to a stop, and both men climbed out intent on helping. Both appeared shaken, but unhurt. Trism was more concerned with the two guards that had been in the car behind them.

The man who had thrown the bomb, a man named Nikidik, was soon arrested, but as they took him away, he called to someone else in the crowd that had gathered.

"Father, please, let's go back to Kiamo Ko-" Trism urged, but Traper insisted on checking on the men; something wasn't right. _"Father, please!"_ The feeling got worse, a bundle of thorns growing in the pit of his stomach. But as the king made his way to check on his injured men, something landed at his feet, followed by a voice.

 _"It's too early to thank the Unnamed God!"_

* * *

She bolted upright in bed, pain ripping through her heart. _Trism._

Without a word, she climbed out of bed, rushing from the room, but her husband was nowhere to be found. So instead, she rushed to the master, pounding on the door, not caring if she woke the rest of the household. " _Locasta! Locasta, please, open the door!_ "

A moment passed before her mother-in-law yanked the door open, quickly tying her robe in the process. "Fabala, what's wrong?"

"Where's Trism? And-"

"They went to witness the drills. It's something Trism's attended since he was a child. Why? Fabala, you're shaking." She pulled her daughter-in-law into the room, shutting the door behind her. "Calm down, what's wrong? Fabala, talk to me."

The young empress shook her head. "I... I can't explain it... but I woke up and... I have this _horrible_ feeling in my stomach... like something's going to happen..."

* * *

A second explosion rang through the street; Trism was knocked back, and several other people were hurt or seriously wounded. The last thought in his mind was of Elphaba, still sound asleep at Kiamo Ko...

The breath he took hurt, and after several moments, he struggled to climb to his feet. There was a ringing in his ears that did nothing to take away the chaos that surrounded them. People lay scattered about the street, some dying, some dead; red was everywhere, staining the snow. After a moment, he went in search of his father-

Traper lay in the arms of a guard; his legs had been blown off, and he was bleeding heavily. But before Trism could say anything, a couple guards managed to get his father into a car, and then pull him in after. Without a word, they returned to the palace.


	25. Chapter 25

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

 **A/N:** **Written: 2005 Found: 2017- Licia**

Elphaba heard the car before she saw it out the window. Slipping into her heels, she rushed from the bedroom. "Locasta! They're back-"

But it was Trism's voice that caused her pause on the landing of the stairs. Locasta joined her daughter-in-law, features paling.

 _"Mother! Mother, fetch the doctor! Hurry!"_

The women watched in horror as guards carried Traper into the palace, towards the study on the first floor. Locasta's cry horrified Elphaba, and she watched as her mother-in-law hurried down the stairs. A moment passed, before her own gaze finally landed on her husband- shaking, covered in dust and debris, but alive- and she rushed to him.

 _"Trism!"_ She threw her arms around his neck. " _Thank the Unnamed God you're okay! I thought I'd lost you!"_ He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair for several minutes before she pulled away. "Trism, you're bleeding!" He reached up, feeling the cut on his forehead. At some point during the second explosion, he'd been hit with something, but he couldn't remember what. It was all a blur of smoke and blood and silence...

 _The second explosion._

"Father." He pulled away from his wife, hurrying into the study, Elphaba hot on his heels.

"Trism? Trism, what's wrong? Tris-" They skidded to a stop in the doorway; Elphaba covered her mouth with her hands, choking on a sob. Glinda, who'd been up for hours in the library reading, came in to see what all the commotion was about, but stopped at the sight before her.

Features mutilated, stomach ripped open and legs torn off thanks to a bomb, Traper was bleeding to death. Locasta, who sat on the sofa he was lying on, held him in her arms; she was holding tightly to his hand, whispering to him softly in Vinkun, as the doctor- who had arrived moments later- assessed the damage. Any attempts to stop the bleeding failed; he no longer had legs beneath the knee, and even if the bleeding could be stopped, he wouldn't survive the night. Without a word, Trism pulled away from his wife, rushing to his father's side. He knelt by the sofa, reaching out and taking Traper's other hand, tears coming to his eyes.

 _"Father."_ Traper's eyes shifted to meet his son's gaze. _"I'm so sorry."_ The king's gaze flicked to Elphaba, who had come up behind her husband. Slowly, the young empress knelt behind her husband, wrapping her arms around him from behind, stroking her fingers through his hair, doing her best to try to calm him, for she could sense that he was getting frantic.

"How long will it be?" Locasta asked, and the doctor sighed, watching the young prince and his wife. Silently, Elphaba covered the hand that held his father's with hers. She slipped her fingers between his and Traper's, the gentle stroking of her fingers against the king's hand seemed to calm both him and his son. She was giving him her strength, because at that moment, he had none.

"Up to fifteen minutes. I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but there's nothing more that I can do except try and make him comfortable." He replied, as the priest that had come with him began to administer last rites to the dying king. Locasta nodded, turning back to her husband.

"I love you, Traper. I love you, so, so much. My darling... _oh, my darling._.." Trism watched as his mother shared one last tender kiss with his father; she either didn't notice or didn't care about the blood, the flesh burned off his bones, for she continued to stroke his cheek and kiss his lips anyway. Traper's eyes remained fixed on Locasta; the young Evian princess, the woman who had bore him two sons and ruled by his side for the last several years, was the last thing he saw as the damage from his wounds finally claimed him fifteen minutes after arriving back at Kiamo Ko.

The once brilliant Vinkun king, who had earned the moniker "The Peacekeeper" for having managed to keep the Vinkus from war during his reign, drew his last breath in his wife's arms, with his son and daughter-in-law by his side. Upon realizing that he was gone, Locasta burst into tears, resting her forehead to her husband's. _"No... Traper... my darling... my love..."_

Trism choked on a sob, resting his forehead against his father's hand, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Elphaba curled around him, pressing soft kisses to his head, tears in her own eyes. The rest of the household who had been there to witness the passing of the king, knelt in prayer.

Though no one spoke, everyone knew that with Traper's passing, the throne now went to Trism.

* * *

"I could have stopped it." She remained silent, preferring to focus on running the brush through her hair, though she was listening intently. "If only I'd insisted we return to Kiamo Ko-"

"You couldn't have stopped it, Tris." She replied, setting the brush down and getting up. "When revolutionaries or anarchists want to eliminate someone, no one will get in their way." She pulled the covers down and slipped underneath, shifting to lie on her side.

He shook his head, pushing back the covers and climbing out of bed. "You don't understand, Elphaba."

" _I_ don't understand?" She sat up. " _I don't understand_ what it's like to have your _family_ ripped apart by _revolutionaries_? Have you forgotten _who I am_ , Trism? Have you forgotten that I lost my _entire_ family? In a _basement_! In a _locked basement_ in the governor's mansion in Fliaan ten years ago!" She cried, getting out of bed and going to him. "I watched my _parents die_! I watched my _sisters_ die! I watched my brother and our servants!" Once she was close enough, she jabbed him in the chest. "I slipped on their blood as I tried to escape! I watched Sophelia's head explode from the bullets! I watched Papa and Mama draw their last breaths before they even realized what was happening!"

 _Melena's prayers were cut short as bullets ripped through her skull; Sophelia's head exploded- brain matter splashed against the back wall, and Frexpar... he stood, reaching for his son, only to be cut down by a bullet to skull, leaving only the servants and his four youngest children alive to suffer what would become known throughout history as the Thropp Massacre._

"So don't you _dare_ accuse me of _not understanding_ what it's like to watch someone you love die, Trism! I watched _six members of my family_ die that night! I listened to Nessa's screams as guards took advantage of her, I slipped on Rainia's blood and tripped over the bodies of our most trusted servants! At least your mother is still alive! I'm the only survivor of _my_ family!"

She turned away, trying desperately to regain her composure. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He began to crumple, and she rushed to him, grabbing onto him as they hit the floor. "I understand, my darling. I understand what it's like to lose your father! Look at me, Trism, _look at me_!" He lifted his head, she took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "I know what you're going through! I know what you're going through..." She held him close, rocking gently back and forth. "You're not alone, my darling. You're not alone." A soft knock sounded, and Elphaba looked up. "Come in."

Locasta slipped into the room, stopping at the sight of her son and daughter-in-law. A moment passed, before she knelt beside her children, reaching out to stroke her fingers through her son's hair. "I'm so sorry, my darling."

"At least he still has you." Elphaba whispered, and the queen knew that the meaning was clear. _He still has a family; he isn't like me, who has none._

"And you have us, Elphaba." Locasta whispered; the young empress nodded. Slowly, the queen turned to her son. "Trism, my darling, look at me, please." Very slowly, the prince turned to meet his mother's gaze. She took her son's face in her hands, resting her forehead to his. "The crown goes to you, my son, if you want it. Whatever you decide, know that we will be right there with you."

* * *

Breakfast was a solemn affair.

Locasta had donned black that morning; her choice of attire would eventually earn her the title of the 'Dowager in Black' for she would wear black the rest of her life, but at that moment, she was simply mourning the loss of her beloved. It had gone from an arranged marriage to a love match in a few short years, and the former Evian princess would never recover fully from the loss of her soulmate. Though her son and daughter-in-law would help, nothing would truly heal the pain she would feel.

Everyone looked up as Trism entered the sitting room; instantly, everyone rose, bowing or curtsying to the young man. All except Elphaba, who hurried to take his hand. Once everyone was seated, Trism looked around, finally catching his wife's eye. She reached beneath the table to take his hand, squeezing gently. _You can do this. I'm right here, darling. I'm right here._

He took a deep breath. "I won't allow the Tigelaar dynasty to die with father. We've ruled this land too long; I'm not going to allow the dynasty to die by walking away from it." He glanced at his wife, who squeezed his hand. "And... if Fabala and I are so lucky to bear a child, then when the time is right, then crown will go to him or her. The Thropp dynasty was nearly wiped out, in one night in a basement; I won't allow the Tigelaar line to suffer a similar fate."

Elphaba leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You will be a wonderful king, my love. You will make your father proud."

He met her gaze. "Say you'll rule by my side, Fabala." She started shaking her head.

"I am no queen, Trism. My mother was no queen, and neither am I-"

"I know." He replied, taking her face in his hands. "I know, my love, you're an empress, the most powerful woman in Oz. I'm not asking you to give up your throne in Fliaan, I would never ask you to choose between Fliaan and the Vinkus. But I can't do this without you. Please, Fabala. I want you by my side. Women throughout history have ruled more than one land; I'm asking as your husband, not as your king. Please."

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "You have always been my king, Tris."

"I can't win without you, Fabala. I can play the game, but I can't win without you by my side. Check is not an option, remember?"

A moment passed, before she nodded. "I remember." She kissed him softly. "If that's what you desire, my love. I won't let you play it alone."


End file.
